White and Black
by Zerbinetta
Summary: All fates start so simply; clean sheets of parchment, pure, allowing all manner of people to leave their mark. What matters isn't how much is written upon them - it's how dark the ink that stains them is that really counts. Currently being part-rewritten.
1. Blizzard

Originally, the OC around which this story is centered was supposed to be the Anti Sue for my parody, but by the time I had finished fleshing out a background for her, I discovered the possibilities of this character and had half a story planned out for her. The story doesn't exclusively follow any particular plotline of the game guild quests, at least not in the first chapters.

Ownership of anything besides my OC is hereby disclaimed.

**o.O.o**

**Blizzard**

**o.O.o**

There were several rules true wherever you went in Tamriel: nothing is more annoying than a Bosmer shopkeeper, nothing is scarier than an axe-wielding Orc (unless the person with the axe happens to be a disciple of Sheogorath) and nothing is louder than a drunken Nord.

In the unlikely event that she ever happened to be investigating the credibility of these universal truths, Lisette Lemieux could easily tick the last rule off on her list. It had just effectively been proved wrong. Oh so _very_ wrong. There was something louder than a drunken Nord; a whole wagon of drunken Nords. Like the one she happened to have the misfortune of riding in at the moment.

It was night on the borders of Cyrodiil, but the tranquil peace of the snowy landscape was marred by the noises coming from the large wagon traveling to the central province. As the only source of light and noise, the transport was effectively scaring off every creature that had come to poke its nose into its business, which was transporting its entourage to the various cities of the province of the Imperials. They were miles away from Bruma now and Lisette was beginning to doubt they were going to make it even that far.

Everyone else seemed almost too drunk to be able to continue without sending their wagon off the cliff, though the horses likely wouldn't go through with that. Of course, the poor creatures were likely frightened by the laughs and general merriment of the Nords on board. It was only prudent to hope that their coachman, a Nord himself, hadn't gotten quite dead drunk yet. He certainly had been the slightest bit tipsy when she saw him last.

Lisette gave a small sigh. As the only non-Nord around, she had been forced to half-indulgently reject the massive quantities of mead offered to her by her various fellow travelers. She fully intended to stay sober, thank you very much, with her low tolerance for alcohol.

_Helps warm ya up_, they said. Well, good for them. She was quite content to fiddle around with a little heat charm herself, damnable cold or no.

For the umpteenth time, she wondered whether leaving High Rock really had been such a grand idea and succeeded in convincing herself yet again that yes, it had been. Anything was better than getting married off to one of her third cousins four times removed, regrettable idiots as they were. Anything, even a band of loudly singing tipsy Nords. At least they were company she had chosen and would be able to get away from without any kind of repercussions.

She hadn't even thought of where to go, really; just packed up and left as quickly as possible. As quietly and stealthily as she could, which, with her frail and small frame, was saying a lot. The fact that her family wouldn't miss her before it was far too late was only another plus.

Breton families were always large and wide-spread, completely ignorant of anything other than the cross-family politics. That involved forging relations with other important figures in High Rock, spreading the influence of the family and boasting the achievements of close relatives as if they were their own. It was slavery, in a way; the family was absolute and being a member of it was the same as being royalty in the eyes of some of her relatives. Moreover, it was a constant battle of petty wills; everyone wanted to be the best, to be given the torch once the current patriarch or matriarch would deem it fit to pass it on. It was a struggle that never ended, not even when one proved themselves.

Lisette had, perhaps mercifully, been excluded from these proceedings for most of her life. Ever since her childhood, she was told time and time again that she had none of the "flare" her family was rumored to possess, no spitfire personality to back up her non-existent devilish charms. She was simply a bookish girl with a keen interest in alchemy. Bretons, considered half-elven, half-human, had a natural aptitude for magic, and so her social-climbing mother was quick to arrange things for her. After all, if she wasn't a great beauty or charismatic leader, she could at least be a powerful sorceress and make the family proud, no?

Unfortunately, things didn't work out that well. Lisette didn't get along with any of her tutors, simply because she questioned their methods and suggested other solutions to problems.

Unacceptable, they said. Their methods have been tested and perfected over the centuries; who was she to judge them? A no-talent whelp who would one day blow herself up with her fizzled spell or mix up poison for herself. And even if she did something correctly, better, even, than they expected of her, they were quick to dismiss it as the result of their enlightened tutelage, not any talent on her part.

Her cousins jeered at her for this; her parents lamented her incompetence. The only thing she seemed to do well was restorative spells, but they had no need for a healer, her mother snapped when her father suggested they be rid of her by sending her to a temple of the Nine. If she were a boy, perhaps, but being a girl, there was yet another solution for this: marriage to some rich distant relative. In case that didn't work out, she would be sent to a temple, her mother decreed, which was likely an equivalent of erasing her name from family history.

While the career of a cleric was an appealing change from her current existence, the option that had priority status, marriage, was not. It scared Lisette, plain and simple. She knew that she would have no say in this matter; a single individual couldn't overrule the entire family. Besides, she heard whispers that her spouse had already been selected. None of the possible candidates appealed to her; her only good fortune was the fact that despite her good family background, none of the men seemed to want a wife that wasn't a brain-dead social butterfly, let alone someone that would outclass them in terms of intelligence.

A burden, they said.

Perhaps there was a bit of a firecracker personality left within her and she wasn't entirely the bland little innocent her relatives made her out to be. Lisette resented this treatment. And she ultimately decided that anything – _anything_ – was better than this. She gathered her potion ingredients, whatever spell books she could carry with her, her more casual and useful clothing and all the gold she found during her frantic search of the house. It was a childish revenge against the harshness of her parents, but she was chalk white as she did this, knowing that she would be worse off than dead if they caught her.

She didn't know where she wanted to go, even; Hammerfell was too close and too hot for someone who preferred the cooler breezes and Skyrim had little use for what she could do to make a living. The nearest province she could go to was Cyrodiil and she decided that it would be her goal, at least for the moment.

It was likely the bravest and most reckless decision she had ever made.

Her family was wealthy, so she could afford to travel in style, but she refused to do so. She didn't know where she was going or what she would do once she got there; thus, she employed the first form of transportation available to her. It was a wagon of Nords traveling back to Skyrim for a brief stop and then to Cyrodiil, some to visit relatives, some to get home and others to just see more of the world. Lisette chose this option because she knew her parents would never look for her in such company and also because all Nords were known for their prowess in battle and liking for blunt and heavy weapons.

Now, days into the journey, Lisette was having second thoughts. They were far away from home already, on the borders of her destination, even, and she had ample money and food to make it wherever she wished. She even had an idea as to what to do when she got to a city or village she might want to live in. But it was the loneliness that was getting to her. She had always been a lonely person, but for the first time, the absence of anything familiar struck her like a hammer into the face. Her servants were miles gone; her annoying family was behind her. Friends? None, thank you. But at least they all were familiar, known to her…

Unlike, say, the wolf that was growling quietly at her bag of potion ingredients.

Lisette gave a startled jerk; she had been reading a book in her corner of the wagon, waiting for the Nords that were having supper outside to stop singing off-key bawdy songs and return, so that they could enter the Imperial province before sunup. But the presence of a full-grown wolf would likely be enough to unnerve any warrior, let alone a frail mage like herself. Moreover, she was reminded once again that her skills in Destruction were basic and passable, at best, non-existent at worst.

"Redmaw, down." a somewhat gruff-sounding male voice commanded from the other side of the wagon. The wolf glanced behind its tail and retreated, though it kept shooting the bag the evil eye.

The wagon wasn't completely empty, it seemed – Lisette was highly surprised to see a Nord sitting on the other end of the spacious room, without any obvious inclination to join his brethren and their merry drinking outside. Upon a closer look, she could see that the Nord in question was dressed in full fur armor and had two rather deadly looking axes with him, the larger of which was visibly enchanted. He had a stern appearance of a battle-hardened man, like a berserker or a mercenary. Certainly not the kind of person you would want to be stuck in a wagon with, especially if you were an unarmed Breton of about a third his mass.

The Nord noticed her obvious unease just as the wolf that was apparently his pet settled down at his side. He rubbed the animal behind its ears for a second or two before glancing back at Lisette, surprisingly, his tone was almost kind when he spoke, at odds with his generally intimidating presence.

"No worries, lass, he won't hurt you. It's the tobacco you have there that's making him edgy." he said, nodding his head towards one of the bags that were at her feet. Apparently, his nose was very good. "Always makes him sneeze, right, eh?" The wolf didn't exactly purr upon receiving another hearty ear-rub, but it seemed more at ease.

"T-tobacco?"

Lisette mentally slapped herself. Of course she had tobacco with her. It was one of the basic potion ingredients that were harder to find in the wild. Not that she would use it on herself, of course, but most people got the impression that anyone who had tobacco had to be using it as a drug. She tried to relax or at least answer in some appropriate way, but couldn't think of anything other than an apology.

"Oh! Sorry, I… I didn't know."

The Nord gave a rather bark-like laugh. One should always know when to apologize to an axe-wielding Nord, but this wasn't the case.

"Ease up, lass." he said, deciding spontaneously that he rather liked the girl. Most Bretons he knew were snot-nosed punks who raved on and on about their magical potential. The change was nice. "No one's going to hurt you."

"Yes, I know that, I know…" She didn't seem to be entirely convinced of this.

"Guilty conscience, lass?" the Nord asked with a slight grin that went unnoticed by Lisette. She tensed, catching herself thinking of how worried the few servants who liked her would be.

"Eh?" she asked intelligently, her book on the provinces of Tamriel dropping unceremoniously out of her hands. She retrieved it off the ground, a flush coloring her pale face, highlighting the hints of freckles on her nose that were normally not visible.

"Only those with guilt on their minds jump as if an imp bit their backside." the Nord noted plainly, watching her dust the book off and then dust her own grey traveling robe when it received that very same dirt the book was now free of. She looked very young when she was afraid, but then again, most people did.

Frustration surfaced in her expression upon being reprimanded.

"Well pardon me for being worried about growling wolves…" Lisette muttered, brushing off the dust with a hint of irritation. Honestly, wasn't this kind of reaction natural when a wolf suddenly crept upon you? Not _everyone_ in the world had a weapon larger than their head and an animalistic strength to wield id, just so the Nord population of Tamriel knew.

"Ah, fire." At last, the Nord cracked a grin, as if she had passed some little test. "Good. I was wondering if you had any, lass. Would be a shame if you didn't."

Lisette looked up from her book, which seemed to be intact. She was often told she had little to no true fire – obviously, this man had never met her cousins. "Why?"

"You look like someone who wants to get far away from somewhere… or something." There was the obvious air of a fugitive around her, someone still looking over their shoulder to see something that wouldn't catch up with them if they hurried. High Rock was miles and miles behind them.

But it brought Lisette no comfort that she was this easy to read.

"What makes you think that?" she asked carefully, putting the bundle meant for alchemy behind the rest of her things.

"No one travels through Skyrim with no weapon mid-winter unless they're crazy, a Nord, or both. You're pale enough to be a Nord, lass, but a child in Skyrim could snap you in half." Lisette gave a small, shaky laugh, but it was genuine enough. The Nord crooked his head a bit, observing her carefully for a second or two. "Breton, aren't you?" he asked, though it was obvious he was certain of it.

"Yes." Lisette said shortly, nodding. Then, she rummaged through her potion bag momentarily. "You should, uh, I mean, I have some Stinkhorn Cap with me, I think. It might cancel out the effects of the tobacco… here." With an air of triumph, she fished out the appropriate ingredient. Standing up, she went and handed it to the Nord, though she kept out of reach of the wolf. Briefly, she told him how to apply it. "Just a bit, though. It should help…"

And it did seem to help; no further secrete seemed to be coming out of the wolf's snout after a moment, which was certainly an improvement. The Nord seemed to be vaguely surprised for a moment before giving her a grateful nod. He was most certainly no magician and his pet's problem was clearly something he wanted resolved. Lisette said a few things about the Cap itself and how often to use it, which was the most advice she could give.

"Thank ye kindly, lass." the Nord said then, genuinely meaning it. "What name do you go by?"

Taking into account that A, she was a terrible liar, B, this man was far more perceptive than the usual Nord and C, she knew she wouldn't answer to a different name, she told him the truth. "Lisette Lemieux."

"Breton, most definitely." With the way she pronounced it strangely, it was clearly a High Rock name. The Nord seemed content that he had guessed correctly.

"As obviously as you are a Nord, I guess." Lisette noted, glancing at the axes. Somehow, she felt more at ease now around him, or at least as at ease as one might feel around an armed Nord. Still, he was sober and seemed a nice enough sort, which was both okay in her books. "Might I know your name?"

"You might. Havilstein Hoar-Blood they call me. You've already met Redmaw." The wolf gave a low growl upon hearing its name mentioned. Lisette decided that she would be much better off not knowing him too well. Sharp teeth weren't something she fancied. She preferred animals with less efficient combat abilities. "Lisette. I suppose I prefer "lass". High Rock has a strange language." Hoar-Blood said, shaking his head. No wonder he disliked the language; his accent was atrocious, but her name was simple enough to be intelligible even when mispronounced. "So, an alchemist, are ya?"

"Self-learned. I guess I'm competent enough to count as one… but I would have to undergo more training." Lisette explained, returning her book to her bag. She wasn't certain whether confiding in a stranger was a good idea, but there was nothing wrong with small talk, she supposed. There had to be many people heading to different provinces for similar reasons, migrating. "It's why I want to go to Cyrodiil."

Hoar-Blood waved a dismissive hand at the notion. "Alchemists are a dime a dozen, lass. If you're not a genius, you won't make a living like that."

"You're from Cyrodiil?" Somehow, Lisette got over the bizarre nature of the situation and managed to ease into small-talk mode. She would have thought someone with that kind of attire would be a Skyrim native, but it seemed that Hoar-Blood was quite familiar with the Imperial province.

"I'm there often enough on business. You should use your best talents if you want to live." Hoar-Blood said seriously. He was apparently speaking from experience, so Lisette didn't dismiss this common knowledge just yet. She was certain she wasn't bad at alchemy, though, and supposed that most renowned scientists needed apprentices to cover the expenses of their research. Or at least to have someone fetch their ingredients from time to time. "You Bretons are supposed to have a lot of magicka. Can you do real spells? Not the scrawny little things needed to mix potions at times. Real magic."

Lisette considered it. She knew enough to defend herself with some basic spells and some family tricks were passed on throughout the generations. For example, every member of her family was apt at shock spells, but it was much more effective as an element of surprise.

"Yes, I suppose." She almost shrugged, which wasn't exactly reassuring. "I have basic training in all schools, but my forte is Restoration." She didn't even realize that she was sharing the crux of her whole story with someone she was likely not to see again. It just felt… good to be able to talk openly with someone who had interest in her ideas. "I was thinking of going to a temple of the Nine and train as a healer…"

But Hoar-Blood made a grimace upon hearing that and interrupted her before she could finish her thought. "Waste of time, lass, waste of time. You seem like a smart girl." Lisette had no idea how he had concluded that much, but she supposed she ought to be flattered. Most people called her a stuck-up bookworm upon seeing her, certainly not something complimentary. "Surely you know that priests parade that charity nonsense and earn less than a pittance. Family connections amount to nil in Cyrodiil."

The thing was, Lisette preferred it that way. She would have even rid herself of the family name if writing it down wasn't a complete reflex by now. She wanted to start with a clear slate, on her own. And if family connections were nothing in Cyrodiil, well… then it might just be the perfect province for her to settle down in. She had never been there, but it seemed diverse and nice enough, if she found herself a place in a city; she wasn't a village girl by nature.

"Restoration is an important school of magic." She didn't see what was wrong with healers, though. It was probably the Nord mindset surfacing, she thought. They always liked to destroy rather than heal. "Without it, we'd still have self-proclaimed healers trying to fix people up with dangerous herbs they know nothing about." Usually, she didn't defend her chosen school so fervently, but then again, no one had yet called it a waste of time.

"I'm not dismissing its importance, lass. I'm just telling you that a young girl on her own has nothing to gain from the priesthood." Hoar-Blood clarified, though he seemed pleased with bringing her on the defensive. If she could stand up for something she believed in, she might survive. It wasn't nearly enough, but it was a good enough start. "Unless you're a fanatic about religion; then I could understand it. Are you?"

"Not really."

Lisette supposed that one of the reasons her mother was so reluctant to send her to a temple of the Nine was that she might be a Daedra worshipper – she certainly wasn't opposed to the idea and never really enforced religion on anyone close to her. She didn't hate the gods, but she always seemed to have a deep resentment for anyone who dismissed the Princes and their worship without cause. As for Lisette, she worshipped Akatosh, but she certainly wasn't overenthusiastic in her faith. Nor did she devote her existence to serving a single deity explicitly.

"Well, then, broaden your horizons a bit. No one gets paid for being nice, lass."

The Breton sighed, knowing this was the truth. "You're right, I suppose."

"Don't just suppose, lass – it's true. You're brave to try and make it on your own, but you have to be smart as well." Hoar-Blood's voice was practically thundering, though he didn't seem to have to put any effort into making it seem so. Lisette was somewhat envious of that. She had enough trouble charming people, let alone intimidating them without trying.

"What would you consider… smart?" she asked with a slightly grimace-like smile. Perhaps Hoar-Blood had forgotten that he had called her smart before; perhaps he simply had different standards for smarts than she did. Hers being the bookish kind; his, apparently, what one would call-street smarts.

"Turning to a stranger and a Nord for advice bout magic? Whatever you're trying to get away from must be pretty scary, lass." Hoar-Blood commented, seeing right through her courteous question. Breton, indeed; the snotty nature was in-bred, even if it was just a residue. It was admirable that she could pass it off as simple wariness, though; she even cringed quite naturally when being appraised. She wasn't rotten yet. "No worries, little Liz, I don't care about High Rock petty politics."

Lisette disliked having her name shortened to Liz. It was easier to pronounce, yes, but she preferred her full name, which was just a syllable longer. Also, she was sometimes forced to point out to foreigners that her name wasn't Elizabeth, even though Lisette likely stemmed from that name. If there was anything she liked about High Rock, it was the caressing language it had. However, she decided to let it slide this time.

"Not sure what they tell you about Cyrodiil back in High Rock, but I hear the Mages Guild accepts just about anyone who has the faintest magicka. Word is their ranks got pretty thin after Necromancy got banned."

"I wouldn't know much about that. In High Rock, they care very little for other provinces." But she considered it for a moment. She wasn't a genius, but that didn't mean she had no aptitude for magic – quite the contrary. And she had heard of the Guild; good things, in fact. The associates were allowed free lodging and access to everything they needed… that would be, in a word, lovely. "They really take anyone in?"

Hoar-Blood nodded, taking note of her distant, dream-like expression. "Free of charge, or so I hear. You've probably heard about the Arcane University in the Imperial City." Lisette nodded immediately. Everyone knew about the Arcane University. And she meant _everyone_. "Well, I hear the better mages head there after their primary training in the local guildhalls is done. I see that's caught your attention." the Nord said, his grin surfacing again.

And Lisette did indeed resemble a star-struck adolescent for a moment. The Arcane University was something she didn't dare dream of seeing, let alone entering. But she realized that now, with her family and their problems far behind her… it wasn't completely unrealistic. It would take years to get there and hard work, but this was the Arcane University she was thinking about – there was no other way. Mediocre mages weren't accepted there. Which meant that she wouldn't be accepted there, but if she joined a guild, she could one day get sent there on an errand and sneak around a bit…

"I don't think I should get ahead of myself. Not that much." Lisette said, willing her feet to return to the ground. She was good enough for training, yes, but certainly not more than that at the moment. "I'd be glad to just get a place to stay and learn magic."

Hoar-Blood was surprisingly knowledgeable about the Guild; he was quick to point out that magic wasn't his cup of tea, which was obvious to Lisette, but he seemed to know quite a lot of people involved with the Guild on some level or another. Apparently, there were guildhalls in every major city in Cyrodiil, each of them specializing in a particular area of magic. Apparently, Restoration was vogue in Anvil, a coastal town on the far southwest of the province, but it was a long way from where they were. From what was likely experience, Hoar-Blood advised her to seek out a branch of magic that would be useful on the offensive as well, not just on the defensive if she insisted on roaming the wild for ingredients unarmed.

They continued speaking even once the wagon finally started moving again, once all the half-drunk Nords were back in their usual spots. It could hardly be said that Lisette felt actually safe around Hoar-Blood and his ferocious pet; there was that distinct air of a barbarian about the Nord, for all the good advice he offered. She also couldn't explain why he was bothering with her, though she knew better than to complain. This was the first time she was anywhere outside of High Rock and she had little idea what to expect – back home, the idea that High Rock was the pinnacle of civilization was often enforced.

She would take a backwater province over that pinnacle any day, though, thank you very much.

In the two hours or so spent talking to Hoar-Blood, Lisette learned far more about Cyrodiil than during her whole lifetime, which wasn't saying much, perhaps, as she was more of a magician than an explorer in her spare time. Nevertheless, it was the experience that counted and Lisette had a very good memory for details. You never knew when they became useful. From an outsider's point of view, she seemed rather like a child who had learned what chocolate tasted like and was now nagging their parent ferociously to get some more. Only more subtle, really.

Unlike the moment when the wagon began to lose speed, which was thoroughly noticeable – they were hitting the bumps of the road much harder.

"We're stopping already?" Lisette glanced out of the wagon, startled from her reverie.

It seemed to be so, because they were slowing down decidedly. Then, after a brief conversation their driver had with someone who didn't sound like a Nord, what seemed to be giant gates opened and the wagon moved into the city. Lisette saw the gates close behind them by several men in yellow uniforms with the city's insignia. They had arrived in Cyrodiil at long last.

She couldn't see much of the city through the night and snow, but the few houses and cottages she could see looked welcoming enough. The wind wheezed through the various alleys, clashing against the monumental cathedral in the middle of the city, in front of which they had stopped to seek shelter from the storm. The houses were arranged on what almost resembled terraces, like a birthday cake would be, perhaps. If only they looked equally friendly.

The door of their wagon opened, revealing the now slightly tipsy but still sober enough driver, who was now wrapped in a cloak that only barely protected him from the cool winds. "Heads up, everyone, this is Bruma. We won't be going further anytime soon. The weather in the Jeral Mountains is too bad, so we have to wait out the storm here."

Lisette stared. "Oh, this is just great." she muttered to herself when her fellow travelers began to disembark. Weather or not, nothing could stop a stubborn Nord, she knew. Except for the promise of mead and brandy and too much of it. Their entourage was obviously too drunk to continue the journey safely, notwithstanding the weather.

In fact, only Hoar-Blood looked as if he was completely there and Lisette realized that he was up on his feet only when she received a near-crushing pat on the back. She did her best not to stumble forward and crash into the wagon, but it took a lot of effort. When she glared somewhat at the Nord, rubbing her shoulder, she noticed that he wasn't looking at her at all and his expression was rather distant.

"I don't think it's exactly bad, lass. Bruma's a decent town compared to some others you might have ended up in. The Countess keeps things in line. Fine woman, that, especially for an Imperial." Even his tone was somewhat distant now. Lisette supposed something had happened in this city he was remembering, because only that could be enough explanation for such a distant look. He seemed to sigh a bit, especially as they were ushered out of the wagon and into the snow.

Lisette was well-dressed for a journey through Skyrim; she had warm clothing under her traveling robe and light boots were warming her feet. Nevertheless, she shivered when hit with the full force of the gale and snow, her pale face reddening. Unlike most of the Nords, she was unused to this; High Rock had a mild climate most of the year. When the wind effectively managed to destroy any remnants of a bun her hair was held in, Hoar-Blood finally noticed that she was shivering and dragged her into the Great Chapel of Talos.

Inside, she seemed very thankful for this and quickly dried her ash blonde hair with a small heat charm. Then, she rearranged it into a ponytail; she looked better when she allowed the evenly-cut strands to frame her face, but it was hardly a practical hairstyle. Hoar-Blood, who had carried her bags, laid them down on one of the benches. There wasn't a service going on and most of the priests were tending to those who had been caught in the storm; uncommon weather for the city itself.

"I just… it's a bit cold here for me…" Lisette noted, rubbing her hands together to get some warmth. She noticed something warm rub against her legs and noticed that now that the potions bag was out of the way and she had apparently been deemed an alright sort, Redmaw was much more friendly – at least, as friendly as a giant wolf kept as a pet could be. It didn't unnerve her completely this time, but it wasn't something to be compared to being warmed by an overgrown puppy.

"There's a guildhall somewhere round town – you shouldn't miss it." Hoar-Blood noted, but it still seemed as if his mind was wandering. Lisette rather thought he looked somewhat troubled. Perhaps this weather was getting in the way of his business in the city as well. Understandable, really. "If you don't get in, ask for the Jerall View Inn or more likely Olav's Tap and Tack since you need a place to stay for the night."

"Couldn't you show me? You seem to be familiar with the city." Lisette asked, gathering that his final destination wasn't Bruma. Which was unfair to her, really, not that she could change a damned thing about it. Hoar-Blood didn't seem like the type of Nord to like being holed up in a city too much, but it certainly would have been comforting to have someone that was being nice to her around. Gaining some security and then having it stripped from her was hardly nice.

Hoar-Blood considered this momentarily. But naturally, staying was out of the question. He liked the Breton girl for some inexplicable reason; perhaps because she was honest, unlike most of the people he had the displeasure of having to work with. But work always came first, no matter what the case. Taking up his post and waiting for news was necessary, as always. A shame, though. He would have liked to observe the girl for a few days, out of curiosity.

"I'd like to, lass, but I'm short of time." he said, shaking his head, the edges of the fur helmet bouncing rather amusingly. "Business doesn't wait for anyone and I've got a long journey on foot ahead of me. Besides, Redmaw doesn't fit into cities much. He doesn't like them either." The wolf in question growled in what could be considered an affirmative manner. However, he seemed to like Lisette well enough.

"Oh. I see."

Lisette looked rather displeased with this. It was always easier to brave a new environment with someone like Hoar-Blood at your side, naturally, but… well, she understood. The world didn't revolve around her and it had been her choice to go this far.

"Well, thank you very much for the help, Havilstein; the company as well. I guess… I guess I'm not a completely helpless foreigner now." she said, laughing a bit, though it was partly forced. She still felt that way. Then, blinking away that expression, she was once more herself. "Will you come by the city sometime soon?"

Unless he was very much mistaken, the little mage seemed to hope they would meet again. Well, that was surprising. She had seemed very scared at first and now, she was singing a different tune. Hoar-Blood certainly wouldn't be against the idea under different circumstances, but it was likely better for her that they didn't meet ever again. She might never realize it, but it was much better for her if she forgot their very meeting and prayed to whatever deity she believed in that neither he nor his associates would ever have a serious cause to visit her.

"It's not very probable, lass, but I wouldn't mind to bump into you again." With his large paw of a hand, Hoar-Blood ruffled her hair in what Nords probably considered a brotherly or friendly fashion, but Lisette was disgruntled by it and not just a little annoyed. "Yer a smart kid, which makes you okay in my book. Walk always."

"Walk?" Lisette asked, blinking. After being faced with the challenge that was a wagon filled with Nords and a hefty supply of mead, she just might, but still, it struck her as strange. Was this some kind of Cyrodiilic farewell? She thought that she would know such things; she was familiar with the basic history of the provinces, at the very least.

"Huh?" the Nord was momentarily surprised by her reply, as if it was odd, but then shook himself, realizing his mistake. He wasn't accustomed to talking much to people outside of his own profession, much less giving them a polite farewell. The phrase just came naturally – he was fortunate in having used the shortened version only. "Oh, sorry, forgot myself for a moment. Business motto, you know." he said, a lie that wasn't much farther from the actual truth. "Take care, little Liz."

Lisette watched him emerge from the temple, unfazed by the strong winds. Redmaw flicked his tail at her one last time before following his master out into the cold. Neither glanced back, as if this meeting hadn't even occurred. In a few moments, both figures vanished in the snow. The Breton mage pondered that so-called business motto even while being tended to by the priests and priestesses. With a hint of disappointment, she realized that she hadn't had the chance to ask Hoar-Blood anything about himself or what kind of business he was in that made him trek through the wilderness during a wild blizzard.

Much time would pass before she would hear it again or figure out what it meant. Even more before she would understand just how grim and odd her first entry to Cyrodiil had been.


	2. Cream

**o.O.o**

**Cream**

**o.O.o**

In the morning, it was still snowing quite badly, but at least the gale had passed. Lisette, who had been convinced by the priests to spend the night at the temple, decided to go find the Guildhall Hoar-Blood had mentioned to her. Even if she didn't join in the end, she had no wish to waste the day away. Her body had gotten somewhat used to the cold, even if she was wearing practically all her clothes at once and her cheeks were perpetually red. It was no time to dawdle.

Bruma looked like a town hospitable enough, even though the population was mostly composed of Nords. After the wagon ride with at least half their race, Lisette decided that it wasn't so bad that she wouldn't be able to put up with it. Certainly asking for directions was made easier by the ability to identify and handle drunkenness.

The Mages Guild building was easy enough to find, especially since the city was so well-organized; surprisingly so. She wouldn't have guessed that from Nords, but then again, the Countess was supposed to be Imperial. It wasn't even far from the temple, which was always nice, but it required climbing a few sets of half-frozen stairs. Falls and slipping weren't exactly the best way to start the day, so she was careful.

For some reason, the guildhall looked nicer than Lisette thought it would, which was saying a lot. The Lemieux manor had been luxurious, but never homey. The guildhall itself was rather picturesque, even from the inside. All fine wood and pretty glass windows. A bit like a fairytale cottage, though she hardly believed in those any longer. Plus, it didn't seem like most mage's laboratories Lisette had seen; meaning a few seconds before an explosion would go off.

There was a desk akin to that of a receptionist in the middle of the hall, but no one seemed to be nearby; perhaps she had come too early? Rising at dawn had never been her habit, but with the cold, it was difficult enough to fall asleep, let alone remain so. After a lifetime of being watched by servants, Lisette didn't feel comfortable just wandering around somewhere she might not be allowed to be. As she walked to the desk, she kept searching with her eyes for any presence.

"Um… hello?" she called, with less confidence than she felt – her voice echoed a little. She stopped at the desk, leaning against it briefly. "Anybody here?"

Unfortunately, to her slight shock, a woman that had been fishing something from underneath the desk straightened up. Her sudden appearance wasn't nearly as shocking as her resemblance to one of Lisette's simpering aunts back at High Rock; it was uncanny. The woman was a Breton, her brown hair pulled back in an elaborate hairstyle; the only difference between her and Lisette's horrible relatives was that her large smile possessed no shark-like quality. Rather, it was daffy to the point of being breezily careless.

Or a few ingredients short of a potion.

"Why hello there, dearie!" the woman twittered, giving Lisette what she likely assumed was a reassuring look. In fact, she seemed to make a habit of popping from underneath desks, if the jumpy reaction surprised her. "Oh, so sorry I gave you a start. My name is Jeanne, Jeanne Frasoric." She spoke a little slowly, a little too friendlily, like an obnoxious governess trying to suck up to her noble prepubescent charges. Obviously Breton. "Welcome to the Bruma Mages Guild! I'm head of this hall, of course, so whatever you need, just you come to me." She said all this earnestly and very quickly, as if she didn't want to forget anything.

Lisette fidgeted a bit; if first impressions truly mattered, then this woman was doing the guild a great disservice. "Well, thank you… but I'm not an associate, I just came to ask about a chance to join the Guild."

Jeanne's brown eyes lit up as if she had just unearthed some amazing treasure and had to get her butterfly net to snatch it up quickly.

"Oh, of course you did! Well, you came to the right place, dear, absolutely so! Now let's see… where did I put the forms?" She began rummaging through her stacks of papers with almost indecently satisfied enthusiasm. Lisette briefly wondered if she could make it out of the door before Jeanne found what she was looking for. But the head of the hall was more organized than to allow such a thing to happen (oddly enough) and triumphantly found the paper she was looking for, laying it on the desk. "Ah, yes. Here you go, just sign here and poof! You're one of us."

"Okay." Lisette let it the word out like a sigh – she had nowhere else to stay without imposing on people… and she did want to learn magic. It wasn't as if she had to stay in this precise guildhall. She could try going to another one once the storms would pass. Taking the quill, she wrote down her whole name after reading the contents of the text quickly. It was simply an acceptance form into the Guild.

Jeanne took the parchment with another smile and examined the slanted signature. One wouldn't guess it, but Lisette had very legible handwriting, especially for someone who always kept writing down notes.

"Lemieux?" Jeanne repeated, being the first person to put the accents correctly ever since she had left High Rock. Then again, most of the people Lisette had met since then had been Nords in various states of intoxication, so she wasn't sure it counted. "I knew you were a Breton the moment I saw you, dear." The motherly smile she received looked very fake, even though it likely wasn't. This woman didn't have the cunning for it.

_Stop thinking you_'_re in High Rock._

Jeanne was still talking. "I was born in Cyrodiil, you see, so I know just a few people back at High Rock, but I have extensive contacts around here. So you might be exactly the kind of person we needed here!"

Lisette was beginning to regret signing that form. "I wouldn't know about that, Miss Frasoric… I intend to stay in Cyrodiil, if possible."

"And so polite!" the brunette practically trilled with pride, beaming like a grandmother observing her favorite grandchild and gave a friendly wink that almost made Lisette raise her eyebrows. Not that Frasoric noticed. "Just call me Jeanne, dearie, I'm just as flesh and blood as you are. Now, Lisette, you never know when you might need a helping hand from back home." Wag wag went the reproachful finger. "Don't be quick to dismiss anyone. In any case, let me show you around."

Such eagerness to get away from her duties as head of the hall was truly remarkable, but Lisette had no chance to refuse. Apparently, the arrival of a new associate was sufficiently important to take priority status over anything else, because Jeanne happily abandoned her post to start showing her around the guildhall.

Her office and rooms were the first on the list "in case she ever needed help" and then came the rest of the building. What Lisette noticed quickly was the absence of any other mages, which struck her as strange and somewhat discomforting. She didn't like the prospect of having to live alone with someone like Jeanne.

Fortunately, her fears proved unfounded when they made it as far as the alchemy lab. The smell of ingredients brewing and the slight crackling of a fire was enough proof for Lisette that they weren't alone. Upon a closer look, an Imperial woman was running the alchemy lab, apparently. She seemed about Jeanne's age, perhaps a bit older, and had black hair that reached to her chin. Contrary to what Lisette had assumed alchemists would usually wear, she, like Jeanne, wasn't wearing a robe, but rather a blue dress that looked somewhat more expensive than Jeanne's humble attire.

Beggars had to make up for material deficiencies in different ways; so it would be with her, too, she remembered with a slight twinge of shame. No more Miss Lisette Your Ladyship Lady Lemieux-

"This is Selena Orania, our alchemist!" Jeanne said happily, breaking the girl's train of thought effectively. "She makes wonderful potions!"

From the stiff posture of the alchemist, it was easy to see that she didn't really think her potions were _wonderful_, but she wasn't about to correct her superior. "Good morning, Jeanne. We have a new associate?" she asked, glancing at Lisette.

"Wonderful, isn't it?" Jeanne almost nudged Lisette forward to introduce her before the girl had the chance to open her mouth. "This is Lisette Lemieux; she's just arrived from High Rock. Isn't she a dear?"

"Certainly." Selena said, slightly stiffly. Her expression was milder when she glanced at Lisette, conveying her sympathies for being the new center of attention. "Welcome to the Guild, Lisette. I hope you enjoy your time with us."

"Thank you." Lisette, however, was already peeking into the concoction and observing the various ingredients Selena was preparing. "Is that an antidote you're making?"

The Imperial raised an eyebrow, perhaps a little impressed. "Yes, indeed. You have had training in alchemy, I see."

"I just think that the Redwort flower might not be the best ingredient." Lisette actually began rummaging through the ingredients on the table without any kind of invitation, but she wasn't stopped either. "Unless you cancel the health-damaging effects with something like… like…" She found what she was looking for and showed it to Selena. "Mugwort seeds, maybe. They have no other side-effects, as far as I know."

"Yes, that is true." Selena noted, seeing far more relaxed that she had been when spotting Jeanne entering with a person she didn't know. "But unless you consider the-"

Unfortunately for both of them, Jeanne, who apparently didn't like being ignored, stepped in at that point. "Selena, please, give the girl room to breathe! She's just overwhelmed by the big city, poor thing. We have to help her settle down."

Selena's expression conveyed quite clearly what she thought of that, especially when Jeanne patted Lisette's shoulder in what she clearly thought was a motherly fashion. "Of course. She will be rooming with me then, Jeanne?"

"Why, yes, I almost forgot about that. We're very tight-knit, family-like, Lisette. The hall has common quarters for mages, though they're separated by gender, of course. You'll be staying with Selena."

Lisette wasn't at all disgruntled by that; quite the contrary. Rooming with an actual alchemist was the best thing that could have happened to her, as far as she was concerned. "That's all right. It was nice to meet you."

Selena's spirits seemed to have been raised just a little before she returned to work.

"Ta-ta, Selena!" Jeanne actually waved at the Imperial before leaving, effectively ruining the other woman's mood again. "I have to finish our tour!"

Jeanne dragged Lisette around the whole building for the next ten minutes or so, babbling things all the way. It was surprising and disappointing, but Lisette vaguely thought she got a little sense of concealment spells here or there. Murmuring, she cast a life detection spell and saw two figures running around, but as Jeanne didn't seem to notice them and they clearly radiated magic, there was nothing to do about it. In any case, Frasoric seemed to finally realize that Lisette was still carrying her bags around and led her downstairs to the quarters she would be living in.

The rooms were nice, though not exactly what she was used to – they were underground, for one. Not exactly homey, despite the nice furniture and clean sheets. She spotted Selena's desk and table, stacked with notes and ingredients, which improved the situation somewhat, but it was still odd to be rooming with someone else.

To her chagrin, Jeanne didn't take her cue to leave and clicked her tongue slightly when all that Lisette seemed to be unpacking were books.

"Is something wrong?" Lisette asked, looking up when Jeanne seemed to be observing her without fault.

"I just…" she sighed dramatically, shaking her head in what seemed to be grave displeasure and glanced at the grey traveling robe Lisette was still wearing. "Lizzie, that robe won't do, it won't do at all. You might have traveled all the way from High Rock in that thing, I know, but you're a mage now, proper-like."

If having her name shortened to Liz had been annoying, _Lizzie_ was even worse. Not to mention that it wasn't actually shortening the name – it was longer, far cutesier and far more distasteful, especially coming from someone who was clearly familiar with the language of High Rock.

Jeanne's only saving grace was that she was her superior and thus Lisette couldn't talk back. One of the many things she had mentioned about herself was that she happened to be a Wizard by rank, thus being higher up than her fellow mages. However, even as she spoke, Lisette could sense very little magicka from her, especially for a Breton. It was peculiar and even a someone with limited arcane training such as herself was beginning to suspect that Jeanne wasn't running this guildhall because of any kind of spectacular magical prowess.

"I have clothes for work ready." Lisette said, unpacking her other bag. She had shoes for every kind of weather with her – never underestimate the power of good footwear was one of her mottos – and enough clothing to get by without any problems.

Of course, much of the frillier clothing she had been forced to wear due to her family had been either sold or left at High Rock, but she had everything she needed with her. She was especially proud of the red robe with gold embroidery she had been given as a birthday present five years ago by her servants. She never got to wear it, so it was as good as new. Other than that, her clothing was intended to be practical; several robes of various colors, a dress or two and several more work-oriented outfits. Clothes were heavy and slowed one down during flight.

She brought money instead, safely stashed away. But this was definitely not a good wardrobe according to Jeanne's standards.

"Oh, pish-posh." Jeanne scoffed. Lisette hadn't heard anyone use such words since her great-grandmother had died years ago. "Work isn't everything. You have to be ready to represent the Guild in case someone important comes along. Why, the Countess herself might come or send Gan Luseph, her court mage, to fetch something from us and you want to make a good impression. Or what is Raminus himself were to come?"

"Raminus?" The name sounded Imperial and important. Likely someone Jeanne doted on just like she seemed to intend to dote on her.

"Raminus Polus, a Master Wizard from the Arcane University." Jeanne said it all with distinct pride, clearly stating that she knew the man better than he would have liked. Mercifully, she didn't go into details. She then knocked on her temple as if berating herself for her absent-mindedness. "Forgive me, Lizzie, I seem to be forgetting that this is all so new here."

That was positively the smartest thing Jeanne had ever said in her presence, though certainly not the longest. Still, she was being courteous enough, Lisette supposed, and she knew better than to mistreat good manners.

"Well, uh, thank you for the help, Jeanne." Perhaps it was a clumsy response, but she didn't know what else to say. "I'll unpack and change in a moment. Then I'll sort out my things."

"Good, good. Tomorrow is Sundas, so we can take a few hours off and go buy you a dress or two." Jeanne, however, seemed to take it as an invitation to mess with her life and likely misinterpreted Lisette's look of shock as one of surprise that someone was being so kind to her. "I'm just excited about you being here, Lizzie, don't mind me. We Bretons have to stick together, you know."

"Definitely." Lisette muttered to herself, dazed, realizing that she should have turned on her heel and left the moment Frasoric had opened her mouth.

"That's a good girl! Oh, I'll make sure you feel just like at home, dear! Leave it all to Jeanne!" Once the dreadful woman finished chirping like a hyperactive bird, she finally removed herself from the lower floor of the guildhall and returned upstairs to her duties.

Lisette groaned slightly and tossed herself on her new bed. It was almost as comfortable as her former bed back at home and heaven compared to what they had at the temple.

"Wonderful." The ceiling had the good grace not to respond to her morose tone. "Just like at home."

It took some time before she felt well enough to change out of her traveling clothes. At least she had the decency to kick off her boots, but that wasn't saying much. Finally, feeling less drained, she found a green and blue outfit that she rather liked and put it on. She found a mirror, trying to see if there was still any frostbite clinging to her cheeks. A pale woman who looked younger than she was looked back at her. Presentable. She was about to try and go find someone else upstairs when her door opened slowly and she tensed.

"It's not Jeanne." Selena said with a knowing expression as she entered, closing the door behind her.

Lisette sat back down on the bed with an air of great relief. "Oh, thank Akatosh."

"You know that you should talk that way about your superior." the Imperial said with a surprisingly mischievous look.

"Sorry, I…"

"Lisette, it's all right." Selena interrupted, seeing her guilty face. "Everyone here thinks the same about her. Volanaro and J'Skar simply have more… creative methods of showing it."

"I haven't seen anyone else around… I was beginning to fear that Jeanne was the only one here before we ran into you." Lisette exhaled this, feeling the weight lifting off her shoulders.

"The Guild has hit on hard times and Jeanne doesn't help things." Selena explained, sitting down on her own bed for a moment. People new to the Guild had the right to know that things weren't entirely rosy any longer. "Anyone who wanted to join the Guild just got their recommendation from here and fled as fast as they could to Chorrol or farther south."

"Recommendation? You need one for swapping guildhalls?" Lisette asked, eager to soak up any information about Cyrodiil. Hoar-Blood had told her enough about the Guild, but certainly nothing of its inner workings.

"No, but to get to the Arcane University, you need approval from all the local guildhalls. Few people actually get there, but most want Jeanne's approval out of the way as quickly as possible."

Lisette gave a guilty grin. "I think I can understand that." she muttered, prompting Selena to break her stern façade with a brief laugh.

"So, you're from High Rock? Don't worry, I won't interrogate you." the Imperial noted upon seeing Lisette tense. She didn't pay too much heed to backgrounds, but the girl seemed a nice enough sort – especially as she seemed to know her potions at least a bit. "I imagine Jeanne is giving you a hard enough time already."

"She seems to be under the impression that we're related simply because I'm a Breton. And she calls me…" Lisette gave a slight pause, as if she was really trying not to retch at the word. Needless to say, she failed miserably. "_Lizzie_."

Selena hid her cringing quite well. If they were already at the cutesy nickname stage, things were going to be tough on the young Breton very soon. Most likely Jeanne had decided it was about time she presented a protégé of hers to the world. "Ah, you're in trouble then. You've awoken the dark side of Jeanne."

"What do you mean?" Lisette asked, slightly warily.

"She's always looking for a way to gain new connections. It's the only actual reason she runs this guildhall." Selena sighed; she didn't want to be rumor-mongering, but it was what anyone else would say. She had nothing against Jeanne personally, but she couldn't deny that the woman wouldn't be able to cast her way out of a paper sack, as Volanaro often said. They had that tested. "I don't want to be a gossip, but her magic is definitely substandard."

"Well, she wanted us to go buy new dresses for me tomorrow." Lisette noted, as if that explained everything.

Actually, it did. "Definitely, then."

"That's comforting." Lisette muttered, stretching her legs a bit and putting on her doeskin shoes.

"But don't worry about that. If you're good, you'll want to leave for the other Guildhalls eventually." Selena noted kindly. "We have no actual specialization in a particular school, not since Necromancy was banned. Almost the whole hall quit then; all that's left is the four of us and now you."

"And where are those other two… J'Skar and Volanaro, you said?" Lisette asked, looking up from her shoes.

"Oh, they're around." Selena said a bit disapprovingly. Jeanne wasn't a competent leader, there was no doubt about that, but pigs would be flying without any magical intervention before she would descend so low as to exact that kind of petty revenge on her. And, of course, the boys were doing a splendid job without her. "Pretending to work, no doubt, but likely preparing some creative display of their displeasure with Jeanne."

"Huh?" Lisette blinked.

Selena decided that it wasn't her place to explain – and, in any case, this kind of thing had to be seen to be believed. Standing up, she ushered Lisette to the door. It would do the girl good to start with proper work and not have to deal with these things on her first day. Especially as it was likely that those two invisible fools would show everyone the results of their labor very soon.

"Don't worry about that now, Lisette. I can help you unpack and show you where the ingredients are." she noted, using her magic to arrange the books and ingredients the Breton had piled on her table in alphabetical order. "Then, if you like, you can help me with that antidote."

That most certainly got Lisette's attention; she brightened up considerably, like a little child being promised a treat if she behaved. "Really? Right away?"

"You seem to have at least basic training in alchemy. I'd like to see where you stand before I start teaching you." And she seemed enthusiastic, too, especially about the prospect of getting tutelage. Selena didn't really think anyone had actually taught the girl in the proper way before, which made her skill all the more impressive. "Remember that no matter what Jeanne tells you, you joined this guild for the purpose of learning."

"Of course! That's what I came here for… that's what I want most." Lisette said quietly, beaming, looking much healthier and less pale upon realizing that now, she could do exactly what she wished.

Selena wasn't disappointed. Lisette was truly self-learned alchemist, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. She had a great memory for ingredients and combinations, which was very helpful with this kind of job. She also seemed to have a natural talent for Restoration, which showed when they burned themselves slightly when Jeanne interrupted them at a crucial moment. In light of that, Selena started making easier potions that required incantations from different schools of magic.

By the time evening came – lunch went completely forgotten by Lisette when she got into her element and Selena just took an apple or two from their storage – they had four types of potions correctly labeled and brewed and Lisette successfully managed to summon the Daedroth Selena then quickly used Soul Trap on.

It was an effective cooperation, in short.

Lisette was actually beginning to feel welcome. The Summoning spell Selena taught her was a difficult one and it took her several tries to get it right even though she read the material Selena gave her on it. The elderly alchemist complimented her as a good assistant and they talked about the potions they had made throughout their dinner. No one else made an appearance until finally, Jeanne's voice was heard throughout the building.

_"Aaah! Volanaro! J'Skar!"_

"What's going on?" Lisette asked, cringing as her ears began ringing. She almost spilled the contents of her goblet upon hearing the shrill scream – and Selena had insisted on having wine as a welcoming gift.

The alchemist resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but couldn't hold back a sigh. "The prank, obviously."

Lisette had no idea what this meant at first, but had several ideas, some of which proved to be closer to the truth than she imagined. No sooner than she had finished speaking, the door of the dining hall burst open, revealing Jeanne… or what seemed to be Jeanne. Lisette almost choked on her wine this time. It was Jeanne, judging by the voice, but through some inexplicable magic, her skin and hair had both been turned different shades of neon purple.

Bright neon purple.

"Selena, Lizzie, have you seen those two?" the plum-skinned image of Jeanne demanded, obviously frustrated, which wasn't customary with her, as far as they were able to tell.

"Ah, no." Lisette said when Selena bit her lip, mostly to keep herself from laughing. "I don't even know what they look like."

"Jeanne… you didn't eat enchanted blueberries, did you?" Selena remarked conversationally, seriously, but she was biting her tongue this time. Jeanne looked like an exploding plum, literally.

"Of course not!" the purple Breton snapped, but then corrected herself quickly. She was meant to be the gracious leader and set a good example, not burst out at everything those two did… "I was enchanting my project purple and this happened! When you see them, tell them that this is distinctly not amusing and infantile."

"All right." Lisette said uneasily, watching Jeanne walk off in a huff, clearly searching for the culprits. She was mostly wondering what kind of spell-reflecting enchantment they had used on the object she was enchanting; after all, she had said that she was enchanting things…

"You can come out now, you know." Selena called out unexpectedly, glancing at the two seemingly empty chairs. Only then did Lisette see that an apple was hovering in mid-air and then, a Dispel enchantment was cast by someone she couldn't see, revealing two figures seated opposite the two of them.

A Khajiit and an Altmer, both snickering a bit before giving Selena the puppy eyes. They were not dressed in the robes a mage would wear, but Lisette easily deduced that these two were the missing mages likely responsible for Jeanne's predicament.

"Aw, shucks, Selena!" the Altmer said once he finished chuckling at their prank, giving the Imperial a forlorn look, clearly saying that she was no fun. "You were supposed to tell her that you saw nothing wrong! You know how she would get if she believed she was only imagining things…"

"Obviously, we cannot have our representative going around thinking she is just imagining herself to be purple, Volanaro." Selena noted disapprovingly, now having wiped any trace of amusement from her face. Of course, it was likely that the others had seen it, but that didn't mean she was going to admit to it. She wouldn't join these petty jokes.

"So this is our newest addition? Welcome, welcome!" the Khajiit said brightly, his ears popping up thanks to his good mood. As far as Lisette could tell, he was smiling at her, but it was a bit difficult to discern. There weren't many of his kind at High Rock, but then, he gave a small chuckle, glancing up at her hair. "I say, the yellow suits you quite well!"

She didn't really get that. "What?"

Selena, however, solved the mystery much quicker. Looking at the Breton, she saw that the wine she had given her was likely slightly modified – or perhaps the goblet she drank from had been modified. It wasn't such a shocking color as that of Jeanne, but lemon yellow didn't suit Lisette's hair too much.

"Must you do this?" she asked the two grinning mages wearily and handed the Breton a clean plate to look at herself. "Lisette, your hair just turned bright yellow."

"Oh." Lisette paled somewhat when she saw her reflection, giving the impression of lemon on whipped cream, but then gave a shaky little laugh. It wasn't that bad. "That actually looks… funny." she said, brightening up somewhat. That was an idea – she could change the color of her hair if she liked. Probably not for this particular shade, but she could do so, if she liked. "I wouldn't go around in public like this, though."

"Don't worry about it too much!" Volanaro said jovially, making a dive for his food, rather like someone who believed they had completed a hard day's work and needed rest. "Unlike Jeanne's brew, your dye will only last an hour or so. I wouldn't drink from that goblet again, though." he noted, handing Lisette a new one, which she accepted warily. "Anyway, let us properly welcome to our little nest of mischief!" the Altmer noted with a grin that Lisette found way too filled with energy and bright for someone who clearly disliked his superior. "My name is Volanaro, Evoker by rank…"

"And I am J'Skar, a Journeyman like Selena." the Khajiit added, looking up from his plate, showing his teeth in what was likely a bright smile. "We are pleased to welcome you to the Guild and hope that you forgive us that little joke. We get new associates so rarely; we have to test them before accepting them to the family prim and proper."

"So it's like an initiation ritual, finding out if new people can make fun of themselves." Lisette noted, but it was more of a question.

Both pranksters wore matching grins, as if to say that she would fit here just fine with that attitude. "Exactly!" Volanaro cried happily over J'Skar's echoing laughter. "And congratulations; you've passed!"

"Although I thought at first that you would pass _out_." Selena noted, her disapproving look vanishing for a moment. "You went completely white, Lisette!"

"Next time, we can match your dye to that, if you like." Volanaro offered helpfully and Lisette knew that from now on, she would have to watch her food.

Nevertheless, she smiled, as suspicious as anyone from High Rock would be. She cast a Dispel Magic on the whole table just in case, earning herself a groan and a mutter of "spoilsport" from the mages.

"I think I'll pass."

To her own surprise, Lisette stayed in Bruma.


	3. Parchment

In the next chapter, the actual plot is going to start evolving – these first three were the backstory, in a way. Feedback is always appreciated.

**o.O.o**

**Parchment**

**o.O.o**

By the time the snow lessened and the winds weren't as cruel, Lisette had been living in Bruma for several months.

Life in the Guild progressed much as it always had; associates came and went and fortunately, eventually, the hall was slightly more filled than before, though Lisette counted the original residents as her actual friends. Over time, Jeanne decided to ignore the pranks often played on her, refusing to admit that something like that was happening under her command. Lisette and Selena didn't participate in them directly, but at times, when the pranksters weren't looking, they laughed privately at the various amusing sights.

And Lisette discovered that laughing was all right, because she now had cause for it, without fear of being reproached.

"Lisette, dear!"

She turned away from the small list of purchases she was writing. Lisette was now quite proficient in buying things for the guildhall and, as the most junior member, it was her duty in any case. It was Jeanne calling her, of course; the woman had finally gotten around using her full name to address her, though she always attached "dear", "love" or some such word to it and if she didn't, it was back to good old Lizzie.

Selena mused that it was because the Breton looked healthier now than she had after her arrival. Out of practical reasons, she grew out her hair until it was long enough to be tied into a braid. She looked more her age now and, as her colleagues agreed, it was a change for the better.

"Yes, Jeanne?" Lisette asked, dropping her quill. She was about to go purchase the necessities needed for their newest project and the usual things.

The head of the hall still dressed clothes as tacky and tasteless as those on the day of Lisette's arrival, but at least she made no effort to disguise her profession any longer. She _looked_ like a mage now, even though she could hardly be considered that in practice. However, the same couldn't be said for her personality or her magical ability. After about two weeks, the others had thrown a celebration for Lisette, saying that she had now officially surpassed Jeanne's level of skill tenfold.

The worst part was, it was the truth.

Jeanne noticed that she was wearing her favorite red robe that was now enchanted to resist the cold, meaning that she was likely a few minutes prior to her departure.

"Oh, you're going out." she sounded a bit disappointed, but covered it up quickly. "Well, don't let me keep you. But come see me when you return."

Lisette sighed inwardly. She disliked this flair for the dramatic Jeanne possessed and certainly didn't intend to wait. "If you need something, just tell me."

"Well, I have started the most amazing experiment, but I'm afraid I need some particular ingredients to continue it." Jeanne beamed brightly, as if she were a fresh mother just telling her awed friends that her baby had learned to walk, talk and tap-dance within the first week of its life. Then, she produced a list of ingredients written in her thick but somehow legible scrawl. "Here."

"These don't grow in the northern climate." Lisette frowned as she studied the list. Most of the things named would be fiendishly difficult to acquire, no matter where she looked. Certainly not in Bruma. "Some aren't even brought here because they wither and die before being usable."

"Precisely." Jeanne noted happily. "And I thought, oh, you need to see more of Cyrodiil, Lizzie; Bruma is wonderful, truly, but nothing can top seeing the south with your own eyes."

Now she understood.

"You're sending me to another guildhall?" Lisette asked, looking up incredulously. She had not yet left Bruma on her own, at least not on such a long journey. Their nearest guildhall was in Chorrol, but that was too close to yield the ingredients Jeanne apparently required.

Jeanne shook her head. Somehow, it was predictable. Sending her to a fellow mage would have been simply far too easy.

"Not precisely, no. as far as I know, the only person with all the things I need isn't exactly a member of the Mages Guild, though he is certainly brilliant enough to be one. I know where to find him and if you give him my name, you should get a discount." she added brightly. This was likely the moment when Volanaro would have noted that she would likely get a discount because the shopkeeper would want to be rid of her quickly.

And as she obviously thought she was doing Lisette a favor, there was no refusing the ordeal – she was a superior, after all. Lisette was a bit curious about Cyrodiil and other guildhalls in particular, however, especially the famed Arcane University in the Imperial City. But that would be too much of a good thing, to be sent there so soon.

"Where do I go, then?"

"Skingrad, I'm afraid." Jeanne noted, biting her lip when she saw the blank look she received. "I know it's far, but we'll arrange a horse for you."

"But I don't know the way there." Lisette protested. She had been to Chorrol with Selena once or twice and she now knew her way around the northwestern corners of the province, but Skingrad was down in the south. "Surely it would be better to send someone else."

"You're the only one who I can spare. I need Selena to check on my things when I deal with administrative business and Volanaro and J'Skar…" A dark look crossed Jeanne's face, but then, she smiled blithely. "Well, I simply don't think what they would bring would be anything from my list."

"I see." Suddenly, it didn't sound like the possibly dream journey it might have been..

"There's no need to worry!" Jeanne, the mistress of misinterpretation, obviously thought she could make things all better by a few ill-chosen words. "Skingrad is a wonderful town – our hall there is run by one Adrienne Berene; a Breton, just like us! You should feel right at home. She's always busy, of course, always doing something."

Just like at home. Frasoric obviously had no idea what she considered home and what her home was like.

"When should I go?" Lisette asked, finishing her preparations to go shopping with increased speed. Now it was best to grit her teeth and get things over with as soon as possible.

"Finish up whatever you need; it isn't that urgent. But I would be most glad if you were back by the end of the week, at least. Science and magic cannot be denied! Now, off you go!" Jeanne shooed her off, though in reality, she was the one who left.

Lisette left the hall lost in thought. Being trusted was usually a good thing, especially if she was being trusted enough to be sent off on an assignment, but with Jeanne, one never knew. Plus, wandering alone wasn't much to her gusto, even though she knew that the Guild had to accommodate its members whenever they came or went. She had come to like Bruma as a city, even ignoring the damnable cold she still couldn't get entirely used to. However, she supposed she always knew that she wouldn't be there forever.

Not only did Jeanne seem to make every effort to introduce her to everyone of importance in Bruma as if she were her favorite niece, but she was getting the hang of most of the things the guildhall had to teach her. Even Selena kept telling her that she should try some traveling off to the other halls to get her recommendations and complete the basic courses at the University, at least.

But Lisette thought she had time for that. She had a solid foundation in magic training now and a recommendation from Chorrol for her efforts. There was a time for everything.

Once she finished gathering all that she needed, Lisette made a beeline for one particular cottage in the part of Bruma where most houses were. As her talent with Restoration was developing, she had helped an elderly couple with some health problems and could now be considered their "court mage", as they would joke at times.

Knocking twice, Lisette entered the Lirrian household, earning herself a welcoming smile from the elderly woman sewing something together at her table.

"Lisette!" she said joyfully, but didn't stand up – her joints still hurt at times when the weather changed rapidly. "How nice of you to come and see us!"

For the first time that day, Lisette gave an actual smile; shy, small and almost downcast, but it was genuine.

"You know I like coming here, Erline." The mage rummaged through her worn bag and produced a neatly corked bottle of a restorative concoction she had been preparing in her spare time. "I have the latest potion for you. Drink it twice a day, as I've said before, and you should be fine. How is the pain?" she asked, sitting down on the nearest chair the elderly Breton pulled up for her.

"Everything is much better than if one of the priests had done it! You have hands of gold, child." Erline noted kindly, smiling when Lisette glanced at her feet to avoid embarrassment.

"Just trying to help." she murmured, trying to smile again.

Pretense never worked on Erline; the elderly Breton crooked her neck slightly, observing Lisette from behind a studious frown. "You look a little upset. Is something the matter?"

"No…" Lisette shook her head, but it was an unconvincing act and she knew it. Not that she could have kept up a convincing one for long. "Yes… well, not really."

Erline raised her eyebrows and pulled her chair closer to the girl. "Oh, my. Those are far too many answers for a simple old woman such as myself, honored magister. You must explain it to me." Despite her age and somewhat flawed health, Erline still had a wonderful sense of humor, which was one of the many things Lisette liked about her.

With a deep breath that seemed like a sigh, she went straight to the point. "Jeanne came to see me today."

"Oh, dear." Erline noted, eyes widening. If she were fervently religious, she would have likely made some kind of holy symbol against evil. She had never liked Jeanne much, not least of all because of her treatment of Lisette. There was nothing genuine about the woman; she was like a package with no content. Neatly wrapped and hollow inside.

"And she said that she would be sending me on an errand to Skingrad." the mage added, looking up dejectedly, waiting for a verdict.

True to her nature, Erline seemed slightly shocked but not as outraged as Lisette would have liked. "That's mighty far from here! Only place further I can think of is either Bravil or Leyawiin! Will the wretched woman at least use magic to get you there quickly?".

Lisette cringed unwillingly; teleportation a la Jeanne? No, thank you; she would likely end up in Morrowind. "I don't think I would want to try it."

Erline remembered all the things she had heard about the honorable head of the Bruma Mages Guild and nodded. "I see; I understand."

A door opened before the mage could make a reply, revealing an elderly Breton man that seemed to have been resting. "Lisette, nice to see you here again." he said warmly, spotting the girl.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you, Bradon." Lisette knew well that Erline's husband worked mainly at night, thus making it necessary for him to rest during the day. She hadn't thought she would cause a commotion. Fortunately, Bradon, like Erline, was a highly agreeable sort and didn't seem to mind.

"No problem, that." Bradon shook his head, but then fixed Lisette with a stare of a father hearing that his only child had her eyes set on the local bad boy. "But what's this I hear about Frasoric sending you away from us?"

Obviously, he hadn't been up for only a minute.

"Just for a week or so." Lisette countered, but she didn't sound cheerful when she said it.

"Damnable woman." Bradon muttered, folding his arms and leaning against the doorframe. Despite his age, he was impressive when he gave a glare that was obviously meant for the absent Jeanne. "Thinks she can get people more talented than her to run her errands."

"Well, technically, she can." Lisette piped up. "I'm just an Associate and she is a Wizard."

"Yes, well, we're just scared of the day you leave us for good." Erline said with a slight sigh. She didn't classify people based on their races, but compared to most Bretons, Lisette was practically heaven-sent, if a bit too humble and closed-off for her own good. Besides, she was a good healer.

The mage blinked. She had almost forgotten that leaving Bruma behind would mean leaving the semi-home she had created for herself. "Why would I? I like it here."

"Lisette, you cannot center your life on us." Bradon noted without any kind of pretext. They weren't going to move anywhere anytime soon, but that didn't mean someone with their life ahead of them should sacrifice their youth to play nursemaid. "We're thankful enough Talos sent you to us for as long as he did."

"Besides, you have to make us proud and make it to Arch-Mage one day!" Erline added with a bright smile that Lisette knew better than to disappoint. She wouldn't have been able to do it in any case. "You won't manage that from here."

"I appreciate the faith in me." she murmured, ashamed, once more looking at her doeskin shoes. She didn't know whether Erline genuinely believed that or if she was simply trying to be kind, but assumed the latter. Besides, Lisette had no aspirations to go that far. She knew bureaucracy was only trouble and such a high position in the Guild counted as that.

She didn't want it, in any case, to be a highly-positioned puppet. What she craved, she almost had – a life of her own. Compared to High Rock, Jeanne was close to Akatosh himself.

"Bradon, perhaps we should give her something from your adventuring days to help her on her way." Erline said suddenly, startling Lisette from her reverie. "The roads aren't too safe nowadays unless you're an armed legionnaire, Lisette."

"I don't think we have anything like that anymore, dear." Bradon noted, but it seemed as if he was curious as to how far his wife would take this conversation.

"Then what about the-" Erline stopped herself. They both trusted Lisette, but she wasn't certain the young mage should be caught up in any possible problems of the former adventuring troupe her husband had led. Besides, she didn't even know the name of the amulet. "You know." she amended. "I don't think either of us will need it any longer."

Whatever it was, though, it sounded valuable and Lisette didn't want to take it simply for that reason. The Lirrian household wasn't exactly rich and she still had a stash of gold hidden away from her previous lifestyle. "It isn't necessary."

But Bradon, though somewhat against the idea now, decided to use that motivation – it was true, he wouldn't need the trinket, but there was a chance some good might come of it yet. "Tell you what, Lisette; when you finally get to the Arcane University, we'll give you a present that will make the eyes of all those stuck up Imperials and Altmer pop out of their sockets." he suggested, "You just get your recommendations and show them."

"Well, then, at the very least, I can give you something." Erline got up with the slightest difficulty, but still on her own. She went through her wardrobe, searching for a bundle she had hidden away. "Where are… ah, here. I wore these when we were wealthier and younger. I had to sell the best, but I think this would look nice on you."

She unwrapped the bundle, unfolding a dress of silk and lace. It was her best article of clothing, back from her youth, before she and Bradon had settled down like this and sold off most such expensive things in favor of a simple life. To her knowledge, Lisette had no such outfits, always walking around in simple, practical clothes. As a childless woman, Erline rather thought that it was better to give it to someone who would have use of it rather than sell it for money they didn't need yet. Besides, she couldn't wear it any longer.

"You don't have to do that, Erline." Lisette said quickly. The dress was beautiful and actually looked designed to be comfortable, but she saw that it was likely worth some gold that the Lirrians could use. It was something she wouldn't ever wear, in any case – she wasn't a society lady or anything of the sort. Mages wore clothing that could withstand all kinds of damage, including acid and fire.

But Erline wouldn't be so easily dissuaded and rewrapped the bundle, handing it to Lisette. She would bet all of Cyrodiil that it was better than those horrible clothes that Frasoric woman had tried to make Lisette buy – and she knew that for certain, because the mage always described them in great and horrible detail.

"Nonsense; consider it payment for the services you provided." Erline said, surprisingly briskly. The girl was always forgetting that she wasn't just a mage – she was a woman too. And when a woman didn't want to wear nice clothing, something was wrong with her. "Besides, you're about as tall as me and as thin as I was back then. Better that they be of good use to someone than lie around in a closet for time to eat away at them. Take them with you to Skingrad. Who knows; you might snag some nice mage there and get your recommendation simply for looking presentable." she added, slightly mischievously.

Lisette managed to hide the moment when she almost winced. She still wasn't comfortable with such prospects, because each time someone teased her about it, the images of her family and her possible husbands surfaced from the depths of her mind.

But she accepted, simply because Erline wouldn't have it any other way.

On her way back to the guildhall, she wondered about her family for the first time since her arrival. Of course she had thought of her servants, who had been mostly kind to her, but they would likely understand her decision and hope that she was all right. However, her actual blood-tied family was now on her mind. Most of them were likely glad to be rid of her, particularly the cousins that were supposed to have been her possible spouses. However, they likely weren't happy with her taking that much gold.

She was paling even as she thought about what could happen to her if she were ever to be found. Volanaro was the one who startled from her reverie, waving a hand in front of her face as she was packing her things for Skingrad. She gave a small start, but when she realized who it was, exhaled, somewhat relieved.

The Altmer grinned mischievously in a very non-comforting way. "I hear Jeanne has delegated you her honorary fetching girl now, Blanche."

_Blanche. _White in the language of High Rock. It was fitting, annoying and startling at the same time.

Even though she had gotten used to the pranks of her fellow mages, she could never quite suppress the color fleeing from her face whenever she saw the results of them. They were creative, yes, but frightening in a way. And so Volanaro, who was familiar with the language of High Rock, renamed her Blanche and called her no other name ever since the first moment he created the nickname. Eventually, his Khajiit colleague picked it up as well and even Selena had called her that once or twice. Lisette learned not to mind after a week. It was a nice name.

Not that she could have stopped them if she did mind.

"Yes, off to Skingrad with me." she said with a bit of failed bravado.

J'Skar appeared practically out of nowhere, but Lisette was used to the frequent usage of Invisibility spells. It never ceased to surprise her that Jeanne couldn't pull off even the simplest Detect Life spell. At times, she wondered exactly how she had ascended to her rank, but knew better than to ask the chatty Wizard.

"Ooh, the Destruction guildhall! That should be fun!" the Khajiit cheered, but then his ears dropped. "Too bad we have to stick around here. Have fun for us as well!"

"I'm not going there for fun – I might not even stay at the guildhall." Lisette reminded them both, casting a few Feather spells on the things she was to carry.

"Absolute nonsense!" Volanaro proclaimed with fake outrage. "You need a good offensive spell now and then!"

"Like the one when you made an illusion of fire in Jeanne's office?" Credit had to be given to the fact that neither of them had the slightest shame to look guilty.

"Something like that! I know the Restorative draining spells are fun, but you should try this for size! Look – Heat Blast!" The Altmer conjured up a fireball in his hand, allowing it to simply hover there lazily. It was clearly a Destruction spell and a powerful one, judging by the heat it was radiating and the amount of time it took for it to disappear. "This is really hot nowadays!"

"That was a very blatant and unnecessary pun." Lisette proclaimed bravely, though the sudden outburst of fire had frightened her for a second or so.

And Volanaro grinned. "But you always go so wonderfully white whenever I try something, Blanche! It's always great fun!"

Unfortunately for the two of them, Jeanne chose that moment to enter, looking bright and cheery as always. Volanaro quickly let the spell vanish and J'Skar coughed a bit, pretending to be helping Lisette with her things.

"Lisette, honey, there you are! Have you finished your business around town?" the Breton asked, giving the two other mages polite smiles they found condescending.

"Yes, everything is ready." Lisette noted, deciding to ignore that, though she was still somewhat pale in the face. "So who am I to ask for?"

"His name is Sinderion, an Altmer."

J'Skar caught on and gave a low whistle. "Good for you, Blanche. He is the most famous alchemist of all of Cyrodiil. You could learn a trick or two from him."

"Indeed." Jeanne gave J'Skar a surprisingly approving smile, though she obviously disliked being interrupted. She herself didn't like the nickname, apparently thinking it somewhat juvenile to resort to such things; her attitude on fun in general was similar. "Fascinating research – he sells any very rare ingredients, including those on the list."

"Just be careful not to let him wax poetic about Nirnroot." the Khajiit noted warningly. Nirnroot was a famous ingredient all the alchemists in Cyrodiil – perhaps in all of Tamriel – would sell their soul to Vaermina for. For a very hefty supply only, of course, but still. "Looking for it would be more foolish than searching for a portal to Azura's realm."

"Remember to give my name to him; he should understand that he should give you a discount." Jeanne added as Lisette memorized all these things. Then, she unclipped a pouch from her belt, obviously filled with septims. "Here is the gold to cover the expenses of the journey. I took the liberty of booking you a horse at the stables! I'll be waiting for you, Lisette, darling!" And she flounced off happily to whatever she wasted her days away with.

"Well, this looks serious." J'Skar noted once Volanaro finished miming gagging and mimicking Jeanne. "Lucky you; getting out of the city for a while".

"If I ever return, remind me how lucky I was." Lisette noted, swinging her bag over her shoulder. She was dressed in a blue robe, like most mages or clerics wore, to make her profession recognizable. Because of good impressions, she took the dress from Erline and a few other spare clothes with her, but nothing too unnecessary.

"Don't worry that much." Volanaro said, handing her a sheet of parchment that resembled a map. Currently, Lisette could see all of Bruma on it, including a little circle which likely signified where the holder of the map was currently standing – in the building of the guildhall. "Here; I enchanted this for you. It's a magical map; wherever you are, it will display the road and where you should be going. It should work in the city as well."

"That's great, thank you." Lisette said, brightening up considerably.

"Be sure to bring us new spells we can test on Jeanne!" the mages called after her as she left for the stables. Selena, too busy with double the work she normally had because of Lisette's leave, sent her regards too.

In the stables, Lisette gave Jeanne's name and was indeed given a grey horse that would take her all the way to Skingrad, where it would be stabled and then eventually sent back. Lisette knew how to ride well enough – it was a necessity for the self-proclaimed high-born families, as High Rock had taught her – and with the map Volanaro gave her, managed to find her way quite well. In fact, she didn't get lost, which was a wonder and only had to stop several times on the way to check where she was supposed to be going. The journey wasn't overly long, but by the time she arrived, it was the morning of another day.

Skingrad, she found, was a beautiful town. It was much more regal than Bruma, giving the illusion of great space with its high walls and tall houses. It was definitely the most beautiful city Lisette had ever seen and she would have preferred to explore it thoroughly rather than just stumble around in search for the local guildhall. She passed the Fighters Guild on the way, glancing at it with some wariness, before finally finding the hall. A bit of rest and a moment to change herself from her traveling clothes was all she needed.

Inside, she was greeted by a scene of movement; unlike the sleepy Bruma, it seemed that here, there was always something to do. There was no "receptionist" as there had been in Bruma, but as soon as she was noticed, a Bosmer mage with keen, quick eyes noticed her and approached her with a warm smile.

"Hello and welcome, fellow magister. I'm Erthor, Apprentice of the Mages Guild. Let me welcome you to Skingrad." he said earnestly, motioning for her to come in further into the main hall.

"I'm Lisette Lemieux, an Associate from Bruma." the Breton introduced herself curtly and stated her business. "Jeanne Frasoric sent me to see Sinderion the alchemist."

"Oh, yes, of course. Please, come in; we will accommodate you for your stay. The inns are hardly a place for the Guild." Erthor obviously knew this Sinderion; in fact, it seemed that he really was the most famous alchemist in the province. Lisette was led upstairs to the quarters for guest mages and given a room of her own with anything she might need. She liked it, obviously, and thanked the Bosmer for his helpfulness.

"Where can I find this Sinderion, then?" she asked when she put down her bag and swapped her boots for more comfortable shoes better suited for traveling in a city.

"I think it's a bit too early for him. He usually sleeps during the hustle and bustle of the day and works at night." Erthor then grinned for some inexplicable reason. "That, and Erina sells the best wine after sundown."

Lisette blinked. "What does wine have to do with that?"

"Other than the obvious? Sinderion is researching it." the Bosmer explained, though he was obviously no alchemist and thus didn't go into details. "He has his entire cellar at the West Weald Inn and practically lives there. Fascinating, but strange – but you know Altmer."

Seeing that the Altmer she knew best was a mischievous prankster who wasn't above playing a practical joke on anyone, Lisette was inclined to be slightly edgy now. Perhaps all the stories about how advanced High Elves were with magic and all that were truer than she supposed – perhaps it also tampered with their sense of humor (or minds) to a degree.

"I see."

"Not to worry! We'll be happy to have you here for the day!" Erthor said eagerly, blissfully oblivious to her slight unease. "We get visits very rarely and today we should be having an interesting seminary on elemental magic!"

So Lisette spent the day at the Destruction guildhall, with Erthor being very happy to finally play a guide for someone and thus be useful. Adrienne Berene, the head of the hall, was a Breton, but the polar opposite of Jeanne – the most similar thing about them was that they arranged their hair in a similar fashion. However, Adrienne was a stern, busy woman who was always reading and only grudgingly took the time to move away from her studies to teach. But she was a learned and capable mage and Lisette actually managed to learn some of the spells she had a presentation on. To get things out of the way, Adrienne decided to give her a recommendation for her quick learning skills, so that she wouldn't have to waste more time that would be better spent researching.

All in all, the visit was a pleasant thing and Lisette felt welcome, if slightly out of place.

When night fell, she had Erthor show her to the inn where Sinderion was conducting his research. Things were looking up for her, it seemed, and perhaps it was time to leave all her worries from the past behind.

As well as she should; the future was closer than she supposed. Julianos wasn't the only force that watched over the city of Skingrad that night.


	4. Midnight

The true plot finally begins; for those who are wondering, the titles of the individual chapters have something to do with the theme of the particular chapter and the colors white or black, naturally.

**o.O.o**

**Midnight**

**o.O.o**

Sinderion, it turned out, was of advanced age for an Altmer, if one was to judge by his slightly wrinkled face and silver hair. However, as all High Elves, he aged with grace, meaning that he was neither hunched nor tired; he simply appeared older in comparison with others of his race.

He also happened to reside in a wine cellar, just as Erthor had said and appeared to be readily studying a sample of wine when Lisette entered a bit uncertainly. Perhaps age had mellowed out the legendary Altmer pride, because the master alchemist gave her a friendly smile when she approached and even set aside his equipment for a moment.

"Why hello there, young mage." he welcomed her pleasantly, his guess more than accurate due to the robes Lisette was still wearing. "What can I do for you today?"

"Greetings. I'm Lisette Lemieux, here for some potion ingredients." The Breton whipped out the scroll Jeanne had given her and handed it to Sinderion. It was a lengthy list, indeed, and filled with rare ingredients. Lisette was not surprised to see the Altmer's eyebrows ascend almost an inch.

"Quite an inventory you have there." he commented, glancing up at Lisette for a moment. Obviously, he was wondering just what she intended to do with all the things, because if she wasn't experienced enough, it could end badly.

Lisette realized that and decided to clarify her purpose somewhat. "I was also told to mention that Jeanne Frasoric is the one sending this request."

For the tiniest moment, Sinderion looked as if he was going to choke. But it was gone within an instant, likely the result of centuries of experience. Instead, he looked up with a neutral expression, nodding at Lisette. "Then I applaud your nerves, my dear."

The Breton felt some warmth on her cheeks, but paid it no heed. She hadn't come to gossip about Jeanne and Sinderion would likely think less of her if she complained. "Do you think everything will be possible to acquire?" she asked, genuinely curious.

Sinderion gave the list another look, scratching his chin absent-mindedly for a moment. "Hm… some of these are difficult, but I have contacts. Give me a day and you'll have what you need." he proclaimed, rolling the scroll up and giving Lisette a small smile now that they were over the topic of Jeanne. "At least you haven't asked for Nirnroot. No amount of gold would have been able to match the value of a single piece."

"Yes, I hear it's very hard to find." Lisette couldn't help herself noting. She was interested in any kind of rare ingredient, no matter how useless the information she received might be.

"Which is why we know so little about it." The Altmer sighed, but there was an air of resignation about him. Clearly, this was a project he had abandoned some time ago, though not without regrets. In any case, once the moment passed, he smiled at Lisette again, as if to say she was to dismiss this as rambling. Lisette felt she now understood what Erthor had meant by _study_ of the wine cellar. "Very regrettable. Well, I'm sure you didn't come here to hear about Nirnroot. Alchemist yourself, are you?"

Lisette nodded, but tried her best to remain humble. "Still woefully untrained."

"Never say that." The Altmer waved a reprimanding finger at her. "The best teacher is experimentation. Such as my wine research – others would consider it a waste of time, but the results… the results are simply marvelous."

"I should come tomorrow evening, then?" Lisette asked before he could wax poetic about the wonders of wine. No doubt Sinderion had much data on that particular topic.

"Now that I know you're coming, feel free to come earlier. I should have everything you need by noon. If not, I'll throw in a free alchemy lesson, what do you say?" he challenged.

Lisette hadn't been expecting such an offer, but didn't stutter when she said that she would be completely grateful for such a thing. After all, it was a dream come true for anyone even vaguely interested in alchemy to be tutored by an expert, free of charge. With that settled, she thanked Sinderion and said her goodbye, leaving the now noisy inn behind.

The streets were dark, but cozy; deserted, for the most part. Lisette decided to take a longer path to the guildhall, just to have a brief look at the rich houses around town. They were all very imposing in the faint candlelight coming from within, giving the impression of a fairytale. The city itself was likable, as was Cyrodiil itself, Lisette realized.

She no longer felt like a stranger in the province.

A street or so ahead of her, she noticed one of the trainers she had spotted outside the Fighters Guild, likely heading back to their guildhall for the night. Easily recognizable mainly because of the great mace strapped to his back, almost as large as his head – elven hairdo included.

She almost tripped over a small stone, but when she examined it, she was glad for it. Something was growing out of the dirt just a few inches away. Spotting a batch of what looked like alkanet flower growing from behind a stone on the edge of the road, Lisette stopped in her tracks and crouched to get a better look at it. As relatively common as the plant was, it never hurt to have some of it for free without having to venture out into the wilderness.

She heard a strange sound a moment later; something akin to… a knife being drawn. It was subtle, but it broke through her thoughts.

Lisette looked up towards where the mer was walking and felt a chill as another figure passed her, so intent on remaining unnoticed that they didn't see her, small, unimportant, crouched in the shadows of the edge of an alley. The person was walking almost casually, but the air seemed to have gone cold, as if an icy gale had blown into her face suddenly.

It felt… strange. Partly familiar and highly odd at the same time.

She slowly raised herself, mostly concealed by the wall of the building closest to her and tried to discern who the other person was, but she could tell neither race nor gender, hooded as they were. The figure was moving steadily towards the fighter, until, at long last, they were right behind the Altmer.

The blood in her veins ran cold upon witnessing the scene in front of her. The two figures, apparently unrelated, crossed paths, but the hooded one, the one she could barely see, had no friendly intentions. At first, Lisette believed that the night was playing tricks on her. But it was the glint of a blade she saw, that which had been drawn – a sound she had heard - and, in a moment, the hooded figure grabbed the Altmer skillfully, covering his mouth and slitting his throat before the fighter could even notice what was going on.

Blood, crimson even in the darkness, came rushing out of the wound, coloring the night with its red shades. And then, after the sharp intake of breath, the elf went limp, lifeless… dead. Murdered without ever knowing it.

Murder. Murder in the dark. Knife. Killer.

Danger.

Lisette took a step back, but not even her practiced stealth was enough for an escape. She could practically hear her heart pounding… and if she could, doubtless others could as well. Trained to sense the eyes of others upon them, the hooded figure raised its head, the faceless darkness finding the intruder without even a second to waste. The assassin, sensing that he was watched, spotted her before she could even cast a spell, before she could recover.

_Move! _Her mind was screaming at her. _Run!_

And, finally, when the assassin began moving towards her, her body complied. She sent a fireball towards the assailant, but it was clumsily executed and easily avoided. She ran in a dead sprint through the streets, blindly. But she was at a disadvantage; her pursuer knew the streets. He had studied his victim before embarking on this journey; his habits, his home… Skingrad wasn't a labyrinth to him as it was to Lisette.

But the mage heard voices – guards on patrol. Uniformed guards. If she could make it to them, if she could reach them, call out, she would be safe. She wouldn't get hurt, she would live…

_Live_! Life was the greatest motivation for any creature to exceed their own limits.

She took a right turn and, in her elation, apparently slowed down just for a fraction of a second. It was all the assassin needed to catch her and pull her into one of the many abandoned alleys with enough shadows to conceal them both. But the guards were heading this way… the guards!

A gloved hand was immediately at her mouth, blocking any kind of scream. Had the guards not been passing by, she was absolutely certain that she would be dead by now.

Lisette tensed immediately, feeling the hand that had been clutching a weapon a moment before – a hand that had slain another mercilessly – grab her, the arm snaking around her waist quickly and securely to stop her from moving or making any other unintentional noise. She didn't hear or see anything of the killer, but her eyes fell on the hand blocking her mouth; in particular, a ring with a black gemstone on its forefinger.

She was actually wondering why she wasn't yet being suffocated; it certainly wouldn't be a problem for the killer, but she would probably struggle then or let out some kind of sound. It was far easier to have her held in fear of impending death rather than actually kill her… for the time being. But the guards were passing and leaving. Whoever the killer that had slain the Altmer was, they certainly didn't seem like the kind of person who would have a guilty conscience over killing a witness, even though all she had seen was a silhouette.

Even that was enough to make her life forfeit, apparently.

Lisette felt the coldness pumping through her veins, every breath shallow, possibly the last, but she had to get her mind focused.

Logic. Think. There was some way out of any situation, even a way to cheat death.

The man had her pinpointed as an unarmed mage – because that was what she was, obviously. Her clumsy fire spell was proof enough of that. Mages used magic to defend themselves, which was another reason why she was being muted. She had to get away, but without using magic somehow. She had to do something they wouldn't expect. But the fear in her mind was blocking any effective thinking from her, purging her of ideas.

She felt the ringed hand move slightly upwards, preparing to do what she feared most. The guards were almost gone and by the time she would suffocate, no one would hear her struggle, no one would hear her last exhaled breath.

Blindly, her eyes searched around for something – anything – that she could do or use. Her magic wasn't good enough to achieve a silent incantation. She was going to die, she realized. No one would view it as anything more than an anonymous murder. To escape one kind of hell to enter another… that was unfair. That was a reason for panicky action.

But her hands were free, she realized. At least, her left hand was – the assassin had his right arm around her waist, thus immobilizing her right as well, but her left arm was free to move, for all the good it would do her. Pounding on him with her little fist would be useless.

But… where was the dagger he had had? Weren't… weren't sheathes usually on the left side? If… if she tried, if she searched…

Finally, somehow, her shaking hand found something that the assassin himself had hidden somewhat clumsily in his hasted attempt to capture her and stop her from alerting anyone and not be pinpointed for what he was.

Her fervent, frantic prayers to Akatosh were answered. It was the hilt of a dagger; the very same one that had murdered the Altmer. Lisette was horrified by the idea, but for a moment, the lack of air showed. She saw only white and the part of her that cared about good and evil gave away to instinct.

Survival.

With whatever strength she had left, she grabbed the dagger and blindly stabbed the darkness behind her. On the second try, there was a sharp intake of breath behind her, like a gasp, and wet warmth gushed out at her hand.

The grasp around her head and waist lessened and Lisette didn't waste a second. Pulling the dagger out of the wound sharply simply because her fingers were so tight around it, they were actually white, she bolted away, never looking back. She could hear the assassin gurgle up blood and curse, trying to follow her. She couldn't even identify the voice. But obviously, it wasn't any master of Restoration and Lisette, driven by her panic, bolted away the fastest she could, deliberately avoiding the guards.

That was where he would expect her to go. She didn't even know where to go, she simply sprinted until her legs felt numb, the bloody dagger still tightly clutched in her hand, though the droplets didn't leave a trail after a few steps.

She ran and ran, stopping at last behind the temple of Julianos.

It was a terrifying experience and she didn't realize that pearls of sweat were running down her temples and that she was out of breath before she stopped. Her left hand was still clutching the dagger and the blood, horribly red and dripping from the weapon, was beginning to cool. She looked at her hand as if it wasn't her own, as if it was something alien, horrible. Even in the pale moonlight, it was ghostly white and shaking violently, but refused to let go of the weapon, like a creature that had escaped a predator and was now lying in wait in case the beast would return.

It was a small comfort to know that the man had survived. Very small.

She cast Invisibility on herself after a quick Detect Life with the largest radius she could muster in her current state. It seemed she was alone, but what could she do? She couldn't exactly walk up to the guards with a bloody knife, red-stained robes and claim that she had escaped a hooded killer. They would think her insane at first and then, once they found that Altmer, they would think that she had killed him.

An hour had to pass before Lisette was even able to move. The assassin was obviously long gone, but she didn't want to stick around and be found by the guards like this. Still invisible, she returned to the Guildhall, unseen by anyone, and washed all the sweat and blood off of herself. Nevertheless, she almost seemed to think that the blood wouldn't come off her hand. It did and once she calmed down, she realized that she might be best off not even acknowledging that the incident had ever happened.

But Lisette knew plots; she was a Breton, after all. She knew what might happen if she was careless now. It wasn't certain just how much of her the assassin had seen, but she wasn't willing to give him any chance for comparison.

Quickly, she acted, just in case she had been seen after all. She actually burned the robe she had worn; she couldn't stand to even look at it any longer. Instead of changing into her own clothes, she put on the dress Erline had bought her. The aquamarine fabric made her eyes seem more green than blue and her pale face suited the copper red she turned her hair very well. With a fringe and curls, she was almost unrecognizable, particularly because of the outfit. She would have to thank Erline for forcing her to take it.

Once the event seemed nothing than a horrible dream, Lisette examined the only tangible evidence of the horrible reality she had. The dagger, washed of blood, was a silvery weapon and rather ordinary-looking. No visible strong enchantments. However, to Lisette, it seemed the most dangerous thing in the world. Apart from that, there was an inscription on it.

_Woe_. It brought a sense of foreboding as she held it and examined the clear script.

Lisette didn't want it. It wasn't blood-stained anymore, but she couldn't forget the life – lives! – it had ended. Yet somehow, she didn't think casting it away was the brightest idea. It was a weapon, after all, and she had none for situations such as that. Moreover, her skill with blade amounted to little or none, which was why this assassin's tool was almost ideal for her. Nevertheless, she was even less comfortable with the idea of carrying this around than walking into a battle unarmed.

She barely slept that night, always thinking that footsteps were echoing behind her or that something was about to happen, despite the fact that she was now all but unrecognizable. She kept the blade, hiding it carefully and spent the rest of the night repeating the Destruction spells she knew and the new ones she had learned until she thought the fire might actually burn off her own fingers. Then she washed her hands again just as morning came and Erthor knocked on her door, clearly assuming that since there was no reply, she was likely asleep.

"Good morning, Li-…" He cut himself off before he could even finish her name, taking in the appearance of the woman in the room. Good, that meant that her magic had worked. "Oh, excuse me, milady. I thought you were… might I know why you are here?" he asked carefully, realizing that anyone besides Lisette had no cause to be there.

"It's me, Erthor." Lisette noted – her voice remained unchanged, partly because she couldn't manage such an enchantment for long, partly because the assassin hadn't heard her speak.

The Bosmer blinked rapidly with a look of disbelief. "Lisette? I didn't recognize you! You look….wow." he whistled faintly and Lisette wasn't entirely certain it was because of the effectiveness of her concealing enchantment. Erline had been right – the dress fit her rather well. "Any, ah, reason for dressing up like this?"

"Not particularly, no. I felt like a change" the Breton said quickly, perhaps sharply, even. The last thing she wanted was becoming suspicious to anyone. Not that the effort was helping. "Actually, I will be leaving for Bruma today."

"So soon?" Erthor seemed disappointed – if he were a Khajiit, his ears would have most certainly fallen. "I thought… well, too bad. We really should get visits more often. But you wanted to try out that new spell, didn't you?"

"I-I'll learn it when I come to Skingrad next time." Lisette said, giving a faint smile. she likely wouldn't be coming to Skingrad in quite some time, considering that she didn't know if the assassin saw her face – or, more importantly, if he thought her worth the chase. "Promise."

Erthor sighed dejectedly, but nodded. "Well, I can lend you the book it's from, if you like. Destruction is always a useful skill."

"Thank you very much. Could you get it up here for me? I'll have a read of it. I'd like my lunch here as well, if it's not too much trouble."

She earned herself a surprised and slightly disappointed glance – Erthor, she had learned, was one of those who thought a fresh approach on magic was needed, meaning that he wasn't one much for books. Nevertheless, he didn't refuse.

"Of course not. I'll bring it for you."

Lisette read the book by noon, though she passed through some pages with almost preternatural quickness. She felt uneasy, even with the knowledge that she was likely safe. It wasn't an experience to be taken lightly.

She left the guild quickly, with all her things, thanking Erthor for his help and kindness. Most others had no idea who she was until she spoke.

Nevertheless, once she left the guildhall, she felt somewhat more confident. The four walls had been making her slightly claustrophobic, like a cage. It was unlike her to feel that way, but she much preferred walking around streets with guards all around… though she had no doubt that it hardly passed as a sufficient precaution against a skilled assailant.

Sinderion was up, surprisingly, and preparing some potions.

"Ah, Miss Lemieux…?" It turned into a question when he spotted her new appearance and, for a moment, clearly wasn't certain if it was really her.

Lisette nodded briefly. "It's me, Sinderion, yes."

The Altmer blinked once before smiling in a slightly mischievous and slightly fatherly fashion. "All this trouble for an old mer like me? I should consider myself lucky." he noted with a small chuckle.

Lisette considered it a blessing that there were dozens of possible explanations for her change of appearance.

"I'm sorry to be a nag, but I'm in a bit of a hurry. Change of plans." she said apologetically, hoping that he would readily assume that Jeanne had started to feel uneasy about her delay. Besides, the journey to Bruma wasn't entirely short. "Do you have everything for me?"

"Of course, of course; I hear Jeanne gets unpleasant when forced to wait." Sinderion produced a bundle of finely labeled and ordered alchemy ingredients and Lisette handed him the appropriate sum of septims in return. "Here you go – everything you needed. Plus, that free alchemy lesson I promised."

Blinking slightly, Lisette examined the contents of the bag when the mage made no other move. She didn't really smile, but it lightened her mood somewhat to see a bottle of fine wine among the ingredients. That was likely the alchemy lesson; more than likely, in fact.

"But you were on time; I was early, actually." Lisette noted, though she wasn't certain she could reject something like this.

"Yes, well, far be it from me to disappoint a fellow alchemist. Study it carefully, please. It's of the best quality." Sinderion said in a manner that would have been mocking seriousness from anyone else, but Lisette supposed he was serious. After all, with the amount of bottles in the cellar…

"Thank you very much. I'll stop by if I get to Skingrad someday." Lisette said gratefully, adding the bundle to her own bag and casting a Feather spell on it to avoid fatigue.

"Try not to make it too soon, though." Sinderion was frowning, which was likely uncustomary for him – he seemed concerned. "There's been some nasty business in the city yesterday. I was a bit worried about you, actually."

Lisette once more felt the quick beating of her heart. She likely paled as well. "What kind of business?"

"Ohtimbar, a high-ranking member of the Fighters Guild, was found dead a few hours ago. Slit throat, hours into the night." Sinderion noted grimly. Apparently, news of the murder had spread quickly, even for the standards of a large city. But Lisette felt a weigh drop from her heart. If the body was found, it had to be intentional. Then perhaps… perhaps she wasn't a target? "Clean job. And the fellow was said to be a prodigy with a mace. The guard tried to hush it up, but of course everyone is whispering that it was likely the Dark Brotherhood." he added, with slight distaste.

"The Dark Brotherhood?" Lisette asked. She had heard that somewhere before, but certainly not in depth… High Rock had enough political problems without concerning itself with the rest of Tamriel. Nevertheless, with a name as blatantly cult-like as that, the mage couldn't help but feel uneasy.

"Yes. I take it you're not from Cyrodiil originally? Oh, best not concern yourself with that, then." Sinderion said more brightly when she nodded. "It might give you bad dreams, you know. It did me for a while some centuries ago."

But Lisette couldn't help the question. "Who are they?"

"A guild of assassins, or so they say." the Altmer said, though he clearly didn't want to go into this kind of conversation. "Nobody really knows much about them. I certainly don't – and I don't really like to talk about such things." Sinderion shuddered a bit. "Makes my teeth itch."

Lisette wasn't very reassured by the time she left the cellar. A guild… it seemed so surreal that someone of such a shadowy profession could be that organized, but Lisette knew better than to second-guess that. Everyone knew about the Morag Tong in Morrowind, at least in passing; it wasn't that surprising to see that the other provinces had similar organizations. Nevertheless, she doubted that Ohtimbar had been any government-sanctioned contract for killers. She couldn't imagine Count Hassildor ordering assassins to kill a member of the Fighters Guild; things didn't work that way in Cyrodiil, as far as she knew.

Nevertheless, somehow, she was inclined to believe in the existence of this Dark Brotherhood. That… person… had certainly been skilled and precise, no blood-crazed killer on a spree. No, an assassin; stealthy, careful, quick. Which was all the more frightening.

_Woe_. It had to have a deeper meaning than that, even though she couldn't feel any kind of enchantment on the blade. She would have to examine it even more thoroughly in Bruma. But woe was her if she missed something about the blade. She checked it twice before leaving the city, dispelling any kind of enchantment, but there was none; it was an ordinary dagger with an extraordinary insignia. No clue as to who had owned it. Nothing.

It likely had symbolical significance, Lisette assumed once she picked up her horse and paid for it. A ritual weapon? That could be right.

She mentally slapped herself for even thinking like that. She was supposed to be terrified of the thought of ritualistic murder, not scientifically curious. And if the assassin had truly been a… a _brother_, then she should likely thank the Nine for being reborn like this.

Yet throughout her entire journey back to Bruma, the image of the blade remained in her mind, the faceless darkness and the dagger and the ring with the black stone.


	5. Obsidian

This is likely the last of the quick updates, as I have an exam coming up on Monday. Also, tomorrow, I'm officially nineteen. No more sense pretending I'm still a kid. Damn. Anyway, the assassin from the previous chapter was originally supposed to remain anonymous, but then again… who knows?

Anyway, I'm glad Lisette seems to be okay by you guys. Her name was chosen deliberately, for kicks and giggles. But I like it now and wouldn't be able to rename her even if I tried.

**o.O.o**

**Obsidian**

**o.O.o**

By the time she was some miles past Chorrol, Lisette dropped her enchantment, her hair returning once more to its rather dull dishwater blonde and straightening out. She still wore the dress, however, even though she would have preferred something more practical for horseback riding. Nevertheless, it was rather comfortable, despite its obvious formal nature.

This time, she was actually given an almost formal greeting by the guards and the stable staff, who clearly assumed that she was some sort of high-born lady coming to visit Bruma. Lisette, her thoughts still with the faceless assassin, didn't think much of it.

When she entered the guildhall, she was greeted by the sight of two scheming mages, this time not even bothering with an invisibility spell. They both gave a slight start and gave her matching grins before they noticed her strange and new attire; to her relief, they seemed to approve of it.

"Blanche! Welcome back!" Volanaro said brightly while J'Skar carefully hid whatever it was she wasn't supposed to notice. Lisette decided that it was better not to ask at all. Clearly, something she didn't want to know about was going to happen. "What's the occasion? Did someone get blown up?"

"Not really, sorry to disappoint you." The question was posed a little too readily and eagerly, she supposed, which was why she was slightly unnerved by it. Usually, it wouldn't bother her, but the memories of what she had seen returned to her for a moment.

The Altmer, oblivious to her discomfort, sighed dramatically. "Ah, well, one can always dream."

"So, what is Skingrad like? Explodey things everywhere?" J'Skar asked eagerly, following her into the alchemy lab, which was strangely empty. Selena was likely out somewhere for lunch.

"Fortunately, no." Lisette said as she dumped the ingredients on the table and sorted them out. Jeanne could look for them on her own, but the Breton had a sneaking suspicion that the Wizard likely wouldn't be able to tell ambrosia from garlic unless they were properly labeled. She mentally thanked Sinderion for his precision and perfectionism when it came to doing just that. "The guildhall was actually quite organized and efficient."

"Damn." Volanaro said simply, but then brightened up again. "So, did you learn any new spells?"

"Yes; I actually brought back a book on elemental magic. And no, I'm not lending it to you, Volanaro – to either of you." Lisette glared at both of them as they began to try and force halos to appear over their innocent heads. She rolled her eyes. They were really trying this time. "You aren't cut for puppy dog eyes, J'Skar, so please stop that."

"Aw, Blanche, don't be mean to us. Sharing is caring." J'Skar pointed out, giving the impression of a forlorn kitty for the briefest moment.

No meant no, however. "I care about myself more."

"Oh, phooey." Both mages echoed, but left her to her thoughts. They would likely wheedle it out of her later on anyway, possibly steal it for a little while. And if she hadn't mentioned it, they had ways of finding out. Nothing went past them without them noticing.

Mercifully, she didn't run into Jeanne for the rest of the day. Selena was glad to see her back and so they worked until the very evening – mages had very strange ways of relieving themselves of stress. But it worked for Lisette; she didn't think of what she had seen when faced with routine work, such as potion mixing.

That night, Volanaro decided that it was about right to celebrate the first time Lisette was out of the city on her own on a journey, thus invited everyone to Olav's Tap and Tack for a drink or two. It was obligatory, as the Altmer said, and a "disaster beyond their imagination" would occur if they refused. Selena and Lisette knew better than to do so. Moreover, Jeanne was neither invited nor told of this little celebration, which was pleasing, because it meant she would be the only one left in the guildhall, as someone had to remain there to maintain appearances, at the very least.

The inn was cheaper than the Jeral View Inn, which was one of the reasons the mages had chosen it for the night; the food and drink was just as good, in any case and the company was louder and livelier. However, Lisette didn't really mind anymore. One didn't survive in Bruma long unless one learned to put up with rowdy Nords.

In the company of her fellow mages and things she was familiar with, Lisette almost felt the gloom that had settled over her lift. After all, she was still alive and the probability that the assassin had cared enough to pursue her this far was ridiculously low. Besides, it was likely better that she forgot what had happened; there was no way to change it and thinking about it would only make her feel worse. She always felt a strange nausea in her stomach when thinking about something that made her nervous and this was enough to make a lesser person retch.

It was to her credit that she hadn't vomited after her first encounter with a corpse.

The wine was good and the night surprisingly pleasant, as was the company, though Lisette was by now used to the jokes Volanaro and J'Skar would make. Selena was sitting next to her, also sipping her wine, but none of them drank more than two glasses. They wanted to cheer themselves up, but getting drunk was something they simply couldn't afford. Besides, there were enough drunks around.

The tavern was very crowded, actually. Olav, a cheerful Nord who owned the place, had his hands more than full. Most of the occupants and guests were Nords, naturally, as Bruma was mainly their city, with an Imperial or two scattered around and even an Altmer here and there. Other races weren't that common up North, certainly not in Bruma. To her surprise, Lisette spotted a lone Dunmer sitting at a table in the corner, pointedly ignoring everyone else. But then again, it shouldn't have been that surprising – Bruma was an important checkpoint on the way to the Northern provinces.

For the first hour and a half, things were all right, but then, several Nords started getting a bit rowdy. At first, it was limited to the usual merriment they excelled in, but somehow, one of them seemed to decide that it was time to invite everyone else for a drink and picked the solitary Dunmer as his new best friend. The mer, who had been obviously quite content to be left alone, gave him a very cold look and said something clearly unflattering in response to the loud invitation.

Unfortunately, the Nord was far too drunk to listen to reason after a third refusal which by then employed various words from the vernacular, along with the customary pride of the Dunmer and, to general surprise and some delight on part of the Nords, tried to start a fight by punching the Dunmer. Lisette and her friends were watching by then, along with the rest of the tavern, all of whom knew better than to try and subdue a drunken Nord. Moreover, it was over within seconds, to the general astonishment of all.

As soon as the Nord tried to land a punch, the Dunmer blocked his fist with his forearm and then subdued the barbarian in the quickest and deadliest show of Destruction magic Lisette had ever seen before. The other Nords from the party roared, their tempers flaring up, and one or two took their chances as well, ending up unconscious on the floor. By then, the tavern was filled with havoc and shouting. Most of the people shouted for a healer, but it was obvious that the Nords were merely unconscious, if lightly harmed.

In the meantime, Lisette hurried up to the Dunmer, whose red shirt was beginning to turn a darker shade. No one seemed to be paying him any attention, at least not in the positive sense of the word; they were casting him dark, worried glances. He was of a foreign, proud race, after all, despite being a regular. But Lisette couldn't know that much and she quickly assessed that his injury was the worst, despite seeming light and unimportant at first. Moreover, the magic she had seen was more than impressive.

"Are you all right?" she asked, surprised by the bleeding. Unless it was an old wound, now reopened, she didn't see how the Nord could have done such damage.

She was awarded with a dark glare. "Mind your own business, Breton." the Dunmer snapped, intent on walking away.

"That's no way to talk! Your arm might be broken!" a Nord woman dressed in more elaborate clothing noted. She wasn't one of the fighters, but Lisette supposed she was a regular.

"I can fix the wound for you; I am trained in Restoration." she noted softly, taking the Dunmer by the forearm.

He winced slightly, but his disposition didn't change. "I said leave it."

"It will infect if not treated." she insisted. Without waiting for consent, she began murmuring words of magic that were meant to knit the flesh back together. It was her strongest school of magic, both due to the natural ability of Bretons and her own skill. Healers were underrated in her experience, but that didn't mean a good one couldn't make a difference.

"I'll go fetch a priest!" the Nord woman offered and left quickly.

Lisette proceeded to fold up the sleeve of the Dunmer's shirt, upon which he tried to withdraw his limb, but it clearly hurt him. Then, he left it alone, though he kept giving Lisette a distrustful look. She paid it no heed and continued practicing her magic. The bone wasn't broken, which was fortunate, but the wound was clearly fresh and the new bruise only opened up a badly healed cut. It seemed almost like a knife wound, though she couldn't guess how or where someone who was said to be a merchant could have received such a wound.

The skin retained its sore, purplish hue even when Lisette finished her magic. It was as good as new, as far as she could tell, though the pain wouldn't lessen for some time and the numbness would remain. Just to be certain, she examined the forearm with her own hands, seeing if she hadn't missed anything. She observed the entire length of the bone, just to be certain it was perfectly straight.

And she realized that she had missed something. Something that made the color drain from her face.

The surprisingly elegant dark-skinned hand she was observing was decorated with a ring. It was a simple band; golden, plain, with only a single stone set in it. Black as the night, sharp, cold, like a vortex into an endless void…

There might have been hundreds of similar rings in the world, but something about this one was engraved into her mind. She would have recognized it anywhere.

Murder. Assassin.

For the tiniest moment, Lisette lost focus and the remains of her spell fizzled away. She glanced warily at the Dunmer, who, fortunately, wasn't looking at her for the moment, but rather at the door, where the Nord woman arrived with a priest. Seeing that Lisette was done, he practically yanked his arm from her grasp, causing her to almost stumble back somewhat.

"Is that what you consider trained in Restoration at that Guild of yours, mage? A scamp would have done a better job!" he proclaimed, not even inspecting the treatment. At a different time, Lisette would have been slightly insulted by this, because it was an obvious untruth. However, she remained standing there, still feeling the blood drain from her face.

It was likely paranoia on her part, but that ring looked so familiar…

A gloved hand firmly pressed against her face. An arm wrapped securely around her waist. Eyes watching. Death.

"Are you all right? Lisette?"

Startled from her reverie, the Breton saw that Selena had come over and held her by the hand. The Dunmer was going away, presumably to his room, ignoring a furiously apologizing Olav. The priest was rudely brushed off and the Nord woman gave the injured Dunmer a rather angry look. So much for appreciating help.

"Yes. Yes, I am." Lisette said quickly, realizing that she was likely acting suspicious. Nothing had happened. Nothing at all. She needed to get a hold of herself. _Now_. "I just thought… never mind. I-I think I've had enough celebrating for one night. I will head back and get to bed; the journey has worn me out somewhat. Sorry."

Her fellow mages were looking at her with worried faces as she quickly left the inn and headed straight for the guildhall. Once in her room, Lisette dropped herself on the bed. It couldn't have been what she thought… could it?

But she had felt so certain the moment she had spotted that ring… so close, dangerous. But somehow, she _knew_ that this wasn't the man that had caught her in Skingrad. This one had none of the subtlety and grace of movement the assassin had had. Then… was this a different… member?

The Dark Brotherhood. The words echoed in her mind again as she tried to make sense of them. She didn't dare take out the dagger to examine it. Instead, she lay in bed, losing all track of time as she recalled everything she remembered of the hooded assassin. The image was painted vividly in her mind. Taller than a Dunmer, certainly, lithe. Most probably a man; she hadn't felt even a hint of breasts when she had been pressed against him for those dreadful moments back in Skingrad.

But still…

"Lisette? Are you asleep yet?" Selena entered the room, casting her a worried glance.

Lisette snapped out of her reverie again. "No, I have just finished reading." she lied, but there was a book near her bed, so it didn't seem that far-fetched. Besides, Lisette read things in every moment she had to spare, so who was to question that?

"I just wanted to ask you if you were all right. You gave us a little scare back there." Selena noted with concern, perhaps even in a motherly manner.

"I'm fine, really; just a bit tired, I guess." Lisette said, hoping that the Imperial would let it be. She didn't want to burden anyone with this confession; not that anyone would believe it, of course. Even she didn't believe it at times, though the dagger reminded her time and time again of the truth.

"I'll say, but your spell fizzled for a different reason. You saw something that scared you, right? Not that I blame you; that Dunmer was one rotten bastard, if you'll forgive the language." Selena sat down on the bed next to her and in that moment, Lisette envied her. She knew nothing of the horrors of death.

"I think I was just imagining things. Fatigue, nothing else." And how quick she was to turn to lies, Lisette realized. Who was she protecting – herself or Selena? Possibly both. She wanted nothing to do with the murders.

The Imperial shook her head. "I don't know why you bothered trying to help him. We're not priests, Lisette; we charge for our services. And I would have charged him thrice the sum of a healing spell for being so rude."

"Forget about that, Selena." Lisette pleased. It was enough that _she_ couldn't forget about it.

"All right, if you say so." Selena said, unconvinced.

Lisette remained silent for a moment, her mind still elsewhere. She couldn't be certain about that ring, though her mind and heart told her that she was. But then again, she knew very little about the Dark Brotherhood and there were likely hundreds of rings such as that one. It could have been made by the same jeweler – and, most likely, it had nothing to do with the Dark Brotherhood at all, save for the color, because it was a signal too easily spotted. Then again, it was likely that most people who managed to spot it didn't live to tell the tale.

"Selena?" she asked after a moment, still gazing into space. It would likely give her no peace of mind, but she needed to ask…

The Imperial frowned with concern. "What is it?"

There was likely no pretext that could mellow the question out – and if there was, Lisette couldn't think of any. "What do you know about the Dark Brotherhood?"

Predictably, Selena almost choked and gave her a scandalized look once she realized that it was no joke. "The Dark Brotherhood? You have odd choices in conversation topics, Lisette! In fact, you've been acting strange since you came back." she said, studying the girl closely. "Why are you asking such things?"

"I simply meant…" But it was time to come clean; Selena already suspected that something was amiss and Lisette hated lying to her. At least lying this excessively, even though it was a necessity. "Well, have you heard about the murder in Skingrad?"

"Yes, unfortunately." Selena nodded grimly. "Some Fighters Guild fellow, wasn't it?"

"Yes. That is why I asked about the Dark Brotherhood. I was in the city the night it happened, Selena and hours later, everyone was saying that it was the doing of these people. So… tell me. Please." she added imploringly. Lisette didn't even know _why_ she wanted to know. It was as if there was a great darkness before her, impenetrable, and she was losing herself in it.

And everyone feared the unknown.

"Well, the Dark Brotherhood certainly isn't a common conversation topic, Lisette; I hope you understand that." Selena noted seriously, calming down somewhat. It didn't seem that she was too keen on discussing this, however.

"I know. I've been told the…" Lisette swallowed uneasily. "_Condensed_ version of what they are. But I'd like to know more."

"Why? You aren't planning on having Jeanne eliminated, are you? Because if so, I assure you, there are better methods…" It was a weak attempt at a joke and Lisette didn't even notice the humor in it.

"No, no, nothing like that. But if I am going to be living in Cyrodiil, I'd like to know things about my home. Even the bad ones." It was a lousy explanation even to her ears and she hoped that Selena would accept it, despite its feeble argument.

The Imperial frowned, a hardness settling on her face. She seemed stern and somewhat older when she spoke, far more than her usual relaxed self did. "There aren't many things worse than the Dark Brotherhood, Lisette. Very well, then; I'll tell you what I know, which isn't saying much – I know common knowledge, some rumors, mostly. If you want those, go see Jeanne."

Lisette shook her head – she didn't want to know _that _much, _that _badly. "No, thank you. I just want that common knowledge."

Selena took a deep breath as she began explaining, though she didn't look at Lisette this time. "The Dark Brotherhood is, as the name suggests, a guild of assassins. They are said to be an offshoot of the Morag Tong that went rogue and eventually became an organization in its own right, moving out of Morrowind. For the ill of us all." the Imperial grimaced wearily.

"So they are a sect?" Ritualistic murder. It didn't exactly fit, but still, it was a likely explanation.

"Not exactly, no. They are – or they are believed to consider themselves – a _business_." Selena pronounced the last word with clear distaste.

"Assassins for hire? Is that what you mean?"

Again, Selena made a slight grimace. "Crudely put, yes."

"And this is tolerated?"

"Of course not!" Briefly, Selena looked outraged, but then only shook her head. "This isn't Morrowind and the Brotherhood isn't the Morag Tong. Being a member is obviously punishable by lifelong imprisonment or death. Contacting them - even _trying_ to contact the Dark Brotherhood is illegal." she emphasized, glancing at Lisette warily.

That was what interested Lisette the most – that there was a means of reaching the organization without alerting the authorities. "You mean you can just contact them? Anyone can, just like that?"

"They don't have a public office, Lisette." Selena countered in all seriousness. "There is some kind of ritual – I read it in the Black Horse Courier some months ago. I might have a copy still, if you want it, though I wouldn't recommend it. Just reading about the stuff on a full stomach is bad."

"A ritual? You mean that you have to make some kind of… offering?" Lisette almost shuddered. She could imagine what kind of macabre ritual that might be and none of the vivid images her mind was able to produce were too pleasing. "That sounds cult-like to me."

"Well, I do remember that the Dark Brotherhood seems to worship something called the Night Mother. Whether it's their leader or a quasi-deity, I have no idea and apparently, neither does anyone else." Selena explained, "But it's to this entity that the offering is made and then…"

"Then?" Lisette felt a bit like a child listening to a thrilling tale and waiting for its ending. Of course, the exciting story was a horror tale and the thrill was merely the fright of it… but the adrenaline was just the same.

"Assuming you fulfill every gruesome little detail to the letter, sooner or later, one of those assassins should appear, hooded and cloaked and all that you would expect. They want payment, too – business, as I've said."

"Just business." Lisette echoed. She could imagine that. The hooded killer had made no ritual of killing the Altmer. It was, as Sinderion had noted, a clean job. No unnecessary blood. No show of a reaper come for the soul of the damned. Cold and merciless. Business.

"Lisette, I've said enough about this. You don't want to have nightmares about this." Selena proclaimed firmly, in a rather motherly fashion. "Being close to a murder is enough cause for fear, but thinking about these dreadful things only makes it worse. I'll make a sleeping potion for you if you need."

"How do they get members?" Lisette asked suddenly, listening with only half an ear.

Selena's eyes widened considerably. "_What_? Lisette, I pray to the Nine that you don't intend to try…"

Dark. Murder in the dark. Killer. Lisette realized what Selena was suggesting and shook her head fervently. Yet for a second, just a second, she saw her face underneath the hood of the killer, cold, merciless and detached. But she wouldn't – couldn't – ever…

"No! No, never! Of course not! I just…" Scared? On her toes? A witness to a murder that would be soon forgotten? Or repeated? "I'm curious."

"Oh, very well, but you must promise me not to speak of this again!" Selena gave in. perhaps it was for the best to drink all the venom at once rather than forcing down gulps one by one. "You shouldn't focus on the worst this province has to offer, not so soon."

"I think I have a right to know this." She did, but that was hardly the reason she was asking.

"There is only one way to recruit a murderer, Lisette. Only one." The hard, bitter look on her face said everything.

All the color vanished from Lisette's face, but for a thoroughly different reason than what Selena assumed. "That's appalling."

"They say… they say that if you kill someone… the Dark Brotherhood visits you in your sleep." Selena noted slowly, believing that Lisette was only frightened by the ritual when she went white in front of her eyes. "I think that's figurative speech only – presumably, one of their members finds you while you're sleeping and wait until you're awake to recruit you."

"Could it be magic? Strong Mysticism and Illusion could create the hallucination of a dream…"

"Enough, Lisette. Enough." Selena interrupted, seeing that her friend looked so pale, she could faint at any moment. "No more talk of those killers. You are shaken by what happened and I understand. Get some rest; I'll go fetch you the potion now."

Lisette did indeed look ill at ease, but for a wholly different reason than Selena thought. She paled because she remembered how she had stabbed the assassin into the side. If she had hit an internal organ – say, the stomach – then unless he (and she was by now almost convinced that it was a man) found a healer quickly, he was in danger of dying. But that wouldn't be murder… it wouldn't! It was defense against death, not murder, because the latter had the intention of killing, while all she had wanted was to survive…

The irony of life was that later that night, she prayed to Arkay, the god of life and death. She prayed fervently that the assassin had survived, that she had missed a vital organ, that she had made only a shallow wound… anything! It was selfish, perhaps, because Lisette knew she wouldn't be able to survive with the knowledge of having killed another person. Never mind that the man had tried to kill her. In his place, she would have likely attempted the same, though it was a small comfort to be able to see things from the point of view of an assassin.

Nevertheless, she prayed for the life of someone who had intended to kill her.

Even less comforting was the knowledge that if she would have found him on the streets, wounded thusly, she would have likely healed him herself. What was the correct thing to hope – that she was innocent of murder and he lived, or that a dangerous predator, a trained killer was dead and good riddance? But there was no right or wrong in either of those decisions and Lisette was thoroughly grateful for the sleeping drought Selena fetched her. The potion secured dreamless sleep, quiet torpor she was certain not even the strongest magic could breach.

She woke later than usual the next day, breathing deeply once she realized that there was no robed assassin standing at her bedside as if such things were natural, common, even. For some reason, she decided to take this as a sign that she was innocent and the guilty yet lived.

And strangely, it brought her comfort, the murder she had witnessed notwithstanding. It seemed so far away now, though she new it was just as real as the Blade of Woe, as she had dubbed the dagger recovered from her would-be killer, ignorant of the fact that the weapon was indeed called that. Perhaps the Night Mother herself had whispered the name into her unconsciousness, but Lisette remained blissfully ignorant of all this. In her relief, she even forgot the dark ring she had seen on the Dunmer's hand, though she instinctively avoided the inn from then on.

Strangely, she kept the Blade of Woe; a reminder that no matter how well she might try to forget, reality couldn't be changed. Over time, carrying it around became a habit and the dagger was almost always on her person. She never showed it to the others; it would raise too many questions. Questions she didn't want to answer. She never mentioned her involvement with the murder. And the Dark Brotherhood never appeared to her in her sleep, never tried to recruit her in the peaceful months of her time in Bruma.

Life continued as it had before the trip and due to her studies, Lisette left the Dark Brotherhood out of her conscious mind for a long time. Seasons changed. She studied fervently, until her spells no longer fizzled when she lost focus and her potions were always of the best quality. She was a model student and, according to the unspoken promise, never mentioned the guild of assassins to Selena again.

Otherwise, little changed; the only thing that signified the passage of time was that Lisette seemed to grow a little taller and her hair got somewhat longer, now almost always worn in either a messy bun or a ponytail when she was studying or working. She came to like being called Blanche by her fellow mages, even though it had started as a poor joke – it made her feel like a new person, different, better and more at ease with her life. Eventually, she supposed she could adopt it as her second name.

Things entered a routine; a peace that remained unbroken.

That is, until Jeanne summoned Lisette to her office one day and announced that she was sending her to study at the Arcane University from then on.


	6. Death and the Maiden

This is honestly my favorite chapter yet. It was originally meant to be split into two, but that slowed the pacing of the storytelling, so I cut the unimportant parts. Betcha you all will be able to tell who… well, you'll find out. The title is from a song by Franz Schubert; possibly the first and last that doesn't have anything to do with black and white. But I loved it, so I chose it.

Shut off your alarms, please - what you read here is notromance. Goodness knows we all love romance, but it has little place in Oblivion, especially not this soon.

Fans of Mary Sue, never fear; I won't have time tomorrow because of studying for an exam, but as soon as I get back home on Monday, I will finish up the next chapter of Anyone can Listen.

**o.O.o**

**Death and the Maiden**

**o.O.o**

It was the fault of that potion.

Some weeks ago, the guild had been asked by the Bruma court mage to help prepare a Potion of Recollection, something unheard of previously, to help the Countess with her Akaviri research. In the end, it was Lisette who discovered how to brew the potion, which apparently impressed the court mage and healer so much that he sent his own letter of recommendation to both Jeanne and Raminus Polus, the latter of which wrote back to Jeanne to ask about the state of Lisette's recommendations.

Needless to say that after a year of running errands for Jeanne across Cyrodiil, be it in the company of others or on her own (which was very rare), it turned out that Lisette had most of her qualifications ready and those that she didn't have were easily overshadowed by the recommendation of a court wizard.

She was given only two days to prepare, as she knew that the journey to the Imperial City would be longer than usual, knowing that she was going there permanently. It scared Lisette, shocked her that she could advance so relatively quickly. Yet she was continually assured by the others that they knew this was bound to happen sooner or later, one day, eventually.

Bradon and Erline were saddened by this; Lisette suspected that Erline was devastated, but she hid it exceedingly well, giving nothing but her well-wishes and reminding Lisette that they had high hopes for her future. As a reward for being kind to them over the duration of her stay, Bradon retrieved some kind of magical amulet he had hidden away for quite some time and gave it to her, saying that he really had no need for it any longer. As refusal was out of the question, Lisette had accepted it gratefully.

Everyone at the guildhall went to see her off; Selena, dignified but a bit sad, obviously; Volanaro and J'Skar, trying one last time to dye her hair neon pink by spiking her drink for the last "toast" before the journey and Jeanne, beaming as the pranksters mimed things behind her back – Volanaro made a good show of imitating Jeanne mouthing "my baby" and some such nonsense, while J'Skar put on a performance of annoying the Breton Wizard.

And then, Bruma was behind her and Lisette found herself in the Imperial City, at the gates of the Arcane University.

It was a beautiful building, large enough to occupy the entire size of the small island it was built on. The battlemages practically saluted her when she identified herself, a little overwhelmed still. She had specific instructions to seek out Raminus Polus – it sounded like and Imperial name, so she made note to search for someone of that race – the Master-Wizard Jeanne told her to give regards to along with a little annoying "toodles!"

Toodles her… foot!

If the University was directly within the city, Lisette imagined she might not have made it inside, with all the wonder assaulting her senses. The hustle and bustle of the big city was visible even near the port, which meant that there were likely as many dangers as wonders to be found around. However, she needn't have worried too much; the mage tower was clearly visible and obviously heavily guarded. Flag after flag and much pomp around; Lisette was vaguely reminded of High Rock, which wasn't necessarily a fortunate comparison.

The tower she entered was more slender than she imagined once within and she was fortunate enough to be approached by a man who fit the general image of an Imperial any citizen of Tamriel might have; he was of medium built, with a slightly wrinkled but still young and friendly face, chin-length charcoal hair and smiling eyes.

"Greetings, young mage." he said pleasantly when she entered, obviously looking entirely lost and completely hopeless. "Are you searching for someone?"

"Y-yes. I'm from the Bruma guildhall. Jeanne Frasoric sent me to look for Raminus Polus about my acceptance into the University. My name is Lisette Lemieux." That was the crux of things, really.

"Ah, of course, I remember. Raminus Polus would be me. Well met, Miss Lemieux." They shook hands, which meant Lisette had to drop her bags momentarily. Her belongings were still pretty much the same, though she no longer carried alchemical stash with her; Selena told her that the University had ample supply of everything and was better equipped than them. It was, she said, an alchemist's dream.

"To you as well."

"I'm not your instructor yet, Miss Lemieux; please, make yourself at home here." Raminus noted, seeing her unease. He was apparently well-versed in welcoming new students, though Lisette had to wonder why a Master-Wizard would be tasked with such a mundane thing as showing new associates around. "Let me be the first to welcome you to the University. It will be your home from now on."

"Thank you. It's beautiful, I just… I think it's even bigger than I expected."

The Imperial smiled kindly. "I'm glad you like it. Please, come with me. I'll show you around."

"Oh, you don't really have to. I mean…" What if it _wasn't _his job to show new people around? He was a member of the Council of Mages, wasn't he?

"You have glowing recommendations, Miss Lemieux and I would be a poor host if I left you to fend for yourself." the Master-Wizard said without hesitation. Perhaps it was just a hobby, but who was she to judge? "It is my responsibility to promote you in any case. I hereby name you Apprentice of the Mages Guild. I have no pressing business at the moment. Please, come."

It took Lisette a week to see all the University had to offer. There were so many things to see and do, so much to learn… it was almost overwhelming. The dominant feature of the isle the building was on was, of course, the Arch-Mage's tower, where the Council of Mages regularly met and where visitors without access to the University itself were met. She actually saw Hannibal Traven once or twice in passing; a Breton man, old, wholly unremarkable, but with a zeal in his eyes. He wasn't necessarily charismatic, but he had something that drew respect.

As an official student, Lisette was soon given all the privileges of a full member. She passed the ceremony of receiving her own staff; disappointed that she couldn't get one with healing abilities, she chose one focused on Illusion, which was one of her slightly weaker schools. She was given new robes, olive green, signifying that she was now an Apprentice of the Mages Guild. The color wasn't ideal for her, but it didn't look too bad. As an Apprentice, she was given a room she shared with a Nord called Merete, who became fast friends with her – mainly due to the other girl's initiative, though. She was far more outgoing than the Breton, who found that she had difficulty settling down so easily.

Surprisingly, she found herself missing Bruma and the cozy guildhall, where there was no rush, no deadline and no one to really impress. She sent letters regularly to Selena and the others, responding to Jeanne's much more frequent correspondence politely when she deemed it necessary. However, as she was assigned to classes almost immediately, she had little time for writing and, gradually, she was lucky to be writing monthly.

Things were busy at the University and there were many mages trying to get in – what was harder, Lisette found, was staying there.

She trained hard and immersed herself in books. Time flew when she was having fun and she discovered that she was indeed learning; already were many things she would never have learned on her own clear to her. High Rock seemed like a long-forgotten nightmare now. Her family never came calling – if they knew where she was, they certainly didn't try and bring her back. And Lisette preferred it this way. She befriended several others, but the Nord Merete and her cousin Iver were what she would call her closest friends.

Even if her family had come calling, they likely wouldn't have recognized her, at least not immediately. After hearing the story of her life in Bruma, Merete proclaimed that the nickname Blanche suited her completely and proceeded to use it as Volanaro had. It was the closest thing to home Lisette found at the University and so she didn't discourage it.

She advanced to Journeyman within the year and finally got to more interesting projects. Her specialty remained Restoration, but after some practice, her other skills began catching up. In particular, her Soul Trap spell was very advanced for her level of training, which served in her favor. Her future was looking brighter than ever, her instructors reminded her.

But the past wasn't easily brushed aside. It was almost a year since she had entered the Arcane University. It was closer to two since she had learned of the Dark Brotherhood.

She was preparing a magical broom that would help people with housework, but it would need heavy enchantments that required the equipment of the Chironasium. Lisette was used to going to the workshop after sundown; her work was extensive and required time and she had already received complaints about "hogging" the resources of the University. She preferred solitary work anyway.

This time, she entered only to check a few things for her notes. The Chironasium seemed empty at first glance, but Lisette then saw that someone was indeed present. One of her fellow mages, a female Redguard whose name she didn't know. She had come late to the Enchanting chamber, but it wasn't that which struck Lisette as very odd. Her body was slumped against the wall, her head at an odd angle. As soon as the Breton saw it from up close, she took a quick step back.

Broken. Her neck had been forcibly broken. But it was so obvious that it seemed almost sluggish, amateurish…

And suddenly, there was matching pressure on her forearms as someone she hadn't yet spotted shoved her into the nearest wall, holding her arms away from them so that she wouldn't get the chance to cast a spell. Her staff had been left at her room, but it wasn't aimed to help her with Destruction anyway.

Once the brief flash of pain as her head hit the wall faded, Lisette found herself looking into a foreign face. It was a man, an Imperial, if she were to judge by the most common standards, but his face was slightly more oval-shaped than that of most members of his race. There was a ruggedness about his visage, fit for someone who had seen that life wasn't all sunshine and happiness first hand. But if polished up, he might have looked regal, though one could never compare someone with the air of a predator to a knight or noble.

All that mattered to Lisette was that he was currently the only person in the room where a woman had been killed, which was far from comforting. Especially as he had her wrists pinned against the wall, thus effectively preventing her from using magic or searching for the Blade of Woe.

"Who are you?" she demanded, with surprising authority. Her voice shook only a little. She realized, despite the unfavorable situation, that if he had intended to kill her with one strike, the man wouldn't have waited for her to spot him. Now, she even had time to take note of the details.

The man was about a head taller than her; lithe and graceful. Wearing the robes of an Evoker, Lisette saw his face quite clearly. For all the relaxed, calm elegance he radiated, there was something primal in him, though it could be only the situation acting as a bias on her thoughts. But brown had never seemed such a cold color before she was faced with two merciless eyes.

"Your death, if you make a sound." he said quietly, his voice low and surprisingly enticing. This was no member of the Guild. This wasn't even some blood-crazed lunatic, else she would have been dead by now. Could it…

Dear Akatosh... _no_...

"You're…"

Lisette couldn't even say it. It was like poison in her mouth, the two simple words that had no significance when apart. But she realized the severity of the situation and the grave danger she was in once again. At a different time, she would have assumed that this was proof that her mother was a Daedra worshipper and was trying to get back at her for running away. Not even Mephala could have orchestrated a more delicate irony.

"You'll never get out of the University now." To her utter astonishment, instead of making good on his promise or laughing in her face for such an obvious bluff, she received a sneer-like smile.

"I seem to have gotten it just fine." he noted with the same delicacy as before, as if they were truly just making conversation like civilized people that weren't at the scene of a murder.

"No one leaves the island at this hour without reason." It was mostly the truth; the University wasn't sealed off at night, but mages usually didn't leave this late. Not alone, in any case. And certainly not dressed in the robes of an Evoker. Whence he had gotten those, Lisette didn't dare guess.

Again, that slightly predatory but indulgent and polite smile. Mockery. Toying with the helpless prey was cruel. "Visibly, no."

"The battlemages keep a Night Eye and Detect Life spell on and renew it periodically." Lisette said immediately. She was rambling, desperate. The assassin must have been lying in wait for quite some time in order to blend in with the others, she figured, so it was worth saying this. Besides, it was the truth; it should be, in any case. She was very much aware of the laziness of the guards with the night shift, but it was a bluff worth making.

The assassin seemed to process this within a few seconds, his expression slightly more stern, but then he was watching Lisette again, the very same smile back in place. "Then we will have to leave through the front, won't we?" he asked, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"What?" Lisette blinked, astonished.

"Surely you don't think I will be leaving you here, all alone in the dark?" the assassin asked, almost chivalrously, save for the cold gleam in his eyes and the way he seemed to be laughing at her while remaining silent and polite.

But that was foolishness. "Two people are even more suspicious!"

"I wouldn't say so." And he was right – if they were together, there were various things the guards might assume. It wasn't prohibited to leave; it just wasn't customary. "My only intent is to leave. If you scream or set off a spell, the lives of the mages I will be forced to slay will be on your conscience." With that, he released Lisette's hands and she rubbed her wrists for a moment before looking up.

She didn't need time to think. It was completely clear to her that this man wouldn't hesitate a second to slay another, without emotion; no regret, no conscience. Just business, as Selena had told her. Nothing more.

Nothing more.

"What… what am I supposed to do?" she asked quietly. There was no alternative presented to her at the current moment. She had to comply and both of them knew it.

The dark ring that glittered on the hand her assassin offered her was the final, tangible evidence she didn't really need.

"Relax and take my hand. I won't kill you, foolish girl." he added when the mage didn't seem too certain that it was a good idea. She complied, noticing that the hand that closed around hers was warm, human. Normal. She pushed away the thought of how many had fallen by that very hand as she took a step towards the assassin, away from the wall. His expression, still calculating, became a little more pleased that she knew when to cooperate. Whatever comfort Lisette had forced into her mood vanished when she was pulled much too close for comfort. "Smile a little, if you can. And make your gestures intimate."

"_What?_" Much to the assassin's partly hidden amusement, the little made went completely white upon understanding their little masquerade, her pallor putting any vampire to shame. Again, she received a smile, though filled with mock hurt that would have made another's blood boil.

"My beloved, you wound my little black heart." the assassin said with fabricated gentleness. But if it wasn't a clear mockery, it would have almost passed for a very good act.

Lisette grimaced at the very idea, but knew better than to try and shove him away. An amused assassin was always better than an enraged assassin – she could tell so from experience now. "You're disgusting."

The assassin gave a dark chuckle, but settled down easily and looked her right into the eyes. It was almost as if he was trying to hypnotize her. "Tell me your name." he asked, curiosity coloring his voice. It wasn't a demand; not yet. Inconvenient but amusing, this one.

"Why? So you can mark me as a victim?" Lisette was briefly struck with the ridiculous image of the assassin having a diary in which he kept journal entries about his killings. _Dear Night Mother, today I killed a Breton girl for refusing to tell me her name…_ "You are a death dealer, an assassin."

Though she had meant that as accusations, not titles, she received no hostile reaction. Rather, she was studied intensely for a few short moments. "You are loved by death tonight, little mage."

Lisette swallowed. There was no dagger at her throat, no hand trying to choke her this time, yet she was more afraid of this man being somewhat kind to her than whatever cruelty he might be capable of.

"Blanche." she said then. The stranger raised an eyebrow; he seemed familiar with the language of High Rock, apparently. "My name is Blanche."

He took careful note of the name, though the girl didn't receive any introduction in turn. She didn't seem to be lying and it was indeed a Breton name, but for the time being, he assumed only that it was what she was called by some. Fortunately, it was more than sufficient for his purposes. Taking her arm in the very same faux chivalry, he allowed the mage to lead him out of the Chironasium and through the complex of the University. He managed to identify her blue robes as those of a Journeyman, which was a lower rank than the one whose robes he managed to _borrow_ had.

Overall, he could have hardly asked for a better hostage.

She seemed to understand the seriousness of her position and the inevitability of her compliance. No attempts to escape; no attempts to warn the guards. Her face remained pale, true to the name she had given, but then again, she was a Breton – a slip of a girl with fair complexion and a frail appearance. He estimated her to be in her early twenties, which was perfect for no one to suspect either of them of anything other than trying to steal some time alone, away from the high-nosed instructors.

Whenever a battlemage seemed to be on the verge of noticing them, he pulled the girl slightly closer, enforcing the appearance of a pair of star-struck students going off alone. No one stopped them as the girl led the way through one of the entrances to the University, away from the island. He nudged her away from the city when they left the building behind, into the thick orchard of trees encircling the University. They were away from the entrance, away from the battlemages, away from detection.

"We are out of the watched area now." Lisette noted, correctly assuming that it was unlikely that the assassin would want to escape through the guarded city. Even in the moonlight, she still saw his face – strangely regretful now, though it was only a sentiment on the edge of seeing.

"Yes, a pity." he noted, watching Blanche carefully. It was a pity for her that she had walked in the moment the mark had died; it was great luck for him, of course, but that was no surprise. If there was anything to be pitied, it was that such a brave little thing could not simply walk away from all this.

The current contract had a bonus. It mattered not if she or anyone had seen his face; all it did say was that no one at the Arcane University was to be alerted to his presence until the body was found accidentally. He had arranged it as a magic-inflicted suicide and the presence of a witness could ruin this. There were no spells in his arsenal strong enough to erase Blanche's memory of him; moreover, he didn't want to. The diversion was entertaining, truly, perhaps even enough to earn her another day of living.

"I don't suppose you will just let me go now." she suggested faintly when their conversation seemed to freeze. The assassin tilted his head slightly in interest. And if he said yes, she would promise to be a good girl? He was pondering what answer he would receive if he asked just that. But there was the slightest hint of pride in her face now, which made her slightly more impressive but certainly not more likable.

"I am almost tempted to do so." he said instead.

Blanche blinked, trying to absorbe this suggestion. They were still close enough for the assassin to be able to practically see the thoughts going through her mind on her face. She was trying to understand the words, but gave up on it a moment later. Impressive, especially as she likely thought she was about to die. He had her by the forearms now, still blocking her from using any magic; physically, she was a frail thing, certainly no match for a trained assassin at close range.

"Tell me your name, at least." she asked suddenly. The question was actually surprising; most people wouldn't care about the name of their killer. They would try to beg, struggle or scream. He had effective means of dealing with each of these, but ultimately, it didn't matter; she chose a different question – no. It was more like… a plea. Without a touch of desperation or any kind of pretext. She genuinely wanted to know.

Had she begged, he would have killed her in an instant.

He wouldn't kill her, he decided, not today. Unconsciousness would be enough in this particular case; if the girl was smart, she would know better than to let herself be associated with the _suicide_ back at the university. And Bretons were usually wise in these cases.

At another time, he might have actually answered that question, for all the good it would do her. But night was fading quickly and he had many miles yet to cross. Besides, there was no point in telling her.

"Beloved maiden, I am Death." he answered, drawing her closer.

In a split second, his gloved hand seized the pendant Erline and Bradon had given her back in Bruma – the one she still wore every day – and tightened it around her neck. He could have easily been trying to break it and thus kill her very cruelly, but it seemed that he was being as merciful as he could be; he was choking her, expecting her to pass out quickly and then feel little pain upon dying. Had she had the time to wonder, Lisette would have done so – he was armed with an obviously effectively sharp dagger, yet he refrained from using it.

In retrospect, she would suppose that he had likely intended to dump her body into the lake Rumare and the blood flowing from any wound would have given her location away much more quickly.

But fortunately, he had fallen for her weak attempts to protest that he wouldn't get away. And Lisette wasn't quite gullible enough to believe that a Dark Brotherhood assassin would let her go twice without a fight. She had her dagger close, but thought that might just be a last resort if her other plans didn't work. She didn't want to kill him, but her life _was_ worth saving even at such a cost.

_Such a Breton way of thinking._

The time she had been given, however, had allowed her to come up with a possible plan. She retched at the idea of it, but it was less painful than murder and with effects that lasted much less time. It was fortunate that they were so close, actually. That made it easier on her.

Contrary to expectation, it wasn't entirely revolting when she kissed the assassin without hesitation. The pressure on her throat was tighter for only a second and, in a way, that was fortunate; star-struck girls always waxed poetic about how they saw a flash of electric light when they kissed their lovers. Lisette actually _did_ see a flash of light, though it was because of the pain, not because of any kind of quickly-kindled romantic feelings.

The moment was not entirely repulsive, but it was far from enjoyable. Emotion - not even disgust, which was strangely absent - had no place in her frantic plan.

Assuming there was a plan.

It worked better than she thought; Lisette had expected only a moment of shock that would catch him off-guard, but a second after she brought their lips together, the pressure around her neck lessened in an astonished shiver she felt pass through the assassin. He obviously had absolutely no idea why she was doing this, but, what was more important, didn't know how to react. Fortunately, Lisette did. Her arms were free and the pressure on her windpipe wasn't as life-threatening as before now.

In another completely unexpected move, she wrapped her arms around the assassin's back, making certain that her palms weren't blocked this time. Then, devoid of air for a different reason, she felt the kiss break and found herself staring into the incredulous dark brown eyes of the mysterious man. She only had a few seconds before he would remember himself or her will would falter.

And so Lisette, with whatever magicka she had left after a day of hard work, cast the strongest Drain Fatigue spell she could muster. It worked; the assassin, finally realizing what her plot was, shoved her away roughly while he had strength left, but not soon enough to counter the effects of the spell. In the process, he practically ripped off the Phylactery of Lightness from Lisette's neck, but caused no further injury. And Lisette, with not much magicka left, backed away quickly and did the natural thing.

Running back in the direction of the Arcane University, she began screaming her lungs out for the guards. The assassin stumbled, grabbing the nearest wall or tree for support. Lisette ran as she had only once before, immediately alarming the battlemages, who roused the alarm and went to catch the culprit.

In the morning, however, Lisette heard that despite a thorough search of the area, he was not found. She was awed by that; it must have been a great feat of endurance to get away after having most of your strength drained away. _Death_ couldn't be vanquished so easily, she supposed.

Afterwards, the formal investigation began. Legion officers were summoned, led by Captain Hieronymus Lex, who was in charge of security at the nearby Waterfront. Apparently, the University also fell under his jurisdiction. Lisette was called to the office of Raminus Polus, where the main investigation was held; as Steward of the Council of Mages, the Master-Wizard seemed to be in charge of helping the Legion with their investigation. He looked somewhat devastated when debriefed about the situation and asked Lisette if she was all right as soon as her involvement was mentioned.

Then, she was asked by Captain Lex to tell her account of things, which she did, repeatedly being questioned about a detail here or there. She mentioned little about whatever conversation she might have had with the assassin, making it seem as if there had been no true discussion about the plan.

"Are you quite certain?" Raminus asked after she concluded her story with the Drain Fatigue spell that had caused the assassin to momentarily collapse.

"Journeyman Lemieux was seen leaving the grounds with another person at relatively… close proximity." Captain Lex noted. He seemed to believe Lisette, no matter how unlikely the story might seem. The Legion knew better than to underestimate the Dark Brotherhood. "Unless someone she is close to has entered the complex after she did, we have neither proof of this nor reason to suspect the nature of her testimony."

"Very well, then." Raminus sighed, running a hand through his hair. Evidently, this whole incident was troubling him greatly. "Miss Lemieux, I understand you are shaken by this, but we need to stay calm and deal with the situation."

"It's a miracle you're alive, miss." Lex added, glancing at Lisette as if appraising her capability before continuing. "You will be assigned Legion protection until further notice, until we can determine if the killer has left the Imperial City. I doubt the Dark Brotherhood would risk doing anything now that the murder is uncovered, but you can't put anything past people like that."

"Captain, I hope it is understood that officially, the Arcane University wasn't involved in this… incident." Raminus noted, glancing at Lisette. Obviously it meant she was not to speak of this anymore.

Lex nodded, apparently familiar with the hypocrisy of the Arcane University already. Lisette was appalled by this behavior, but she rather liked Raminus, so she said nothing. "Of course, Master-Wizard. The report will be clean. Take care, miss. You are either very lucky or very brave."

Lisette never forgot those moments when she escaped death for a second time. In the following months, the image became more and more vivid in her mind. Perhaps she didn't try to forget it as much as she did the stabbing because she wasn't afraid that she had killed someone. Nevertheless, it was a very… intense experience. And at times, Lisette thought about the man that had proclaimed himself Death. She often found that his actual features were hard to discern in a mind's eye, even though she would have easily recognized him if faced with him.

Mostly, she remembered his voice, every word he had so carefully articulated, and the way his eyes conveyed the emotion he kept off his countenance. And she remembered the touch, however brief, however cunning its intent, that she had initiated and the fear she had poured into the gesture.

Death. She had escaped it twice now. And she found herself wondering if maybe, the man she had escaped this time was the same as the other. But it was too far-fetched; there had to be many members of the Dark Brotherhood scattered around Cyrodiil. After all, they were said to be a force to be reckoned with.

Lisette trained and trained from then on. Alchemy took a slight backseat to her newfound interest in Conjuration and Destruction. She promised herself not to be helpless again. Slaving away day and night advanced her to Conjurer within a matter of months, which was, as her instructors kept telling her, a very rapid advancement for someone who seemed to be content to remain where she was at the beginning. Lisette didn't listen to anyone about this and ignored the mutterings that began to arise that she was doing all this simply to impress Raminus and become important.

She wasn't even doing this for herself. In the end, she supposed she was doing this for _him_. If they met again… she wouldn't be helpless again. She would brave death this time, looking it in the eyes, despite her fear.

She didn't try to give him a name in her thoughts. He was _he_; no name could do it exact justice.

As for Lucien Lachance, no one heard of this _incident_ from him. The Night Mother was pleased and the contract fulfilled; the matter was sealed. He didn't venture to the Arcane University in those passing months to get a petty revenge; he didn't even see the girl when he happened to pass the Imperial City on his assignments. But he kept the enchanted amulet he had accidentally torn off her neck. Some would say it was a weakness. Others that it was a show of respect for the girl that had been the first and only thus far to trick him.

She had known who – _what_ he was, he was certain of that. How was the question; his disguise had been flawless. He had said nothing about his allegiances. Yet something in her face had shown the fear only the Brotherhood could inspire. And she had thought of a solution to her predicament logically, almost calmly. These were questions without answers, which equaled interest in the assassin's mind. Few would dare – even in desperation – to do what she had done, which had made her simply trick effective.

Death rejected. Cruel girl, rejecting the welcoming embrace of the reaper. But it was his fault, he conceded in the end when he contemplated the mistake. For what soul was not entitled to a kiss before dying?


	7. Statue

Parts of the Mages Guild storyline will be implemented into the fic starting with the next chapter. Also, for those who are waiting for it, the DB itself will be making a "proper" entry within the next three chapters. Boy, does Lisette have some really bad luck. Pun fully intended for all of you who know French and pay attention to name meanings, meaning geeks like myself. :)

**o.O.o**

**Statue**

**o.O.o**

Word spread about the murder at the University and for a few weeks, it was the chief source of gossip among the younger students. For her good handling of the situation, Lisette was commended and promoted to Evoker, no questions asked. Merete had hugged her for about half a minute upon hearing the news, asking over and over again if she was all right and if she needed support. Iver mostly just filled the role of the silent "here for you" type, since he wasn't quite so eloquent with words. After a while, Lisette politely asked them both to stop, noting that she was quite all right.

That wasn't entirely true, of course. She wasn't having nightmares - not of the severe kind with a faceless killer chasing her like after Skingrad – but having been so close to an actual assassin, having spoken to him and having _kissed_ him…

She couldn't rid her memory of that instant. It had been the single most reckless and impulsive thing she had done as part of a plan in her life. And yet it had worked, saving her life, costing her a gift from the Lirrians in the process. Were she the kind of woman to curse others, Lisette would have eagerly wished that the assassin meet his end through the misplaced pendant somehow. Even after a long search, it was nowhere to be found near where she had struggled with the hands of death.

The ferryman had to get a price for passage, but she had come back…

The man had no name in her mind, no true identity, but remained a presence she suppressed whenever possible. Not that he himself had been memorable or that – Nine forbid – her desperate tactics or his biting words had in any way twisted her perception of him. But he had a face, a voice… and a name, likely, one she kept on wondering about. He had been too slender to be a Nord, too sharp-featured to be a Breton and yet his manner wasn't entirely that of an Imperial.

Lisette couldn't place him. He simply _was._

Though no one officially spoke of her involvement in the matter, she was bombarded with questions every day. Her being followed everywhere by two Legion officers didn't help matters at all.

Quite the contrary; though people looked at the officers with relative respect (_or fear_), theories about her involvement spread through the University like wildfire, though thankfully, most agreed that if she was the murderer herself, she wouldn't be allowed access into the University any longer.

Of course there were exceptions, theories and suspicions. Iver liked the one with the flying turtles most of all.

It also gained Lisette a degree of renown, which meant no more waiting to use the spell equipment, at least. Those that didn't try to avoid her were worse, though; Merete, once having gotten over her phase of making certain that she wasn't somehow traumatized by the experience, kept nagging her to tell her of what had happened and her encounter with the Dark Brotherhood assassin. To the Nord battlemage, it seemed like a fantastical tale, something to be shared and laughed about.

In the end, Lisette was actually glad to be sent away from the University on a brief errand. Raminus arranged things for her, seeing that she was getting slightly claustrophobic in the Imperial City due to her unwilling infamy based on the incident, as he would call it when they spoke.

The Guild had been informed that a magister in Bravil had had her staff stolen from her and sold off to a private buyer in the Imperial City. The whole incident was slightly embarrassing to the girl in question and Kud-Ei, the head of the Bravil guildhall, had written to Raminus himself with discretion to solve the problem outside of guild regulations. The staff had been purchased back through some usage of Charm spells; all that remained was to make the delivery.

This was ages after the murder; the investigation was closed by then. The Legion had found no evidence, no culprit, as it usually was, and as no one made any attempt to harm Lisette and she was leaving town, her guards were returned to their previous posts in the city.

She was handling herself remarkably well, Raminus would note at times, for going through such a traumatizing event. And indeed, she was much better now; the fact that it hadn't been the first murder she had witnessed helped. Somewhat. Apparently, one could get used to almost everything given sufficient time and practice to adjust.

For the sake enhancing her authority in the situation, she was hastily elevated to Conjuror. By this point, most thought that it was just the University's way of trying to hush up any potential trouble she could be with any kind of demands for her pains. Lisette wasn't exactly one to disagree at this point.

The University offered to teleport her to the Bravil guildhall, but when she got warned that no one would be able to teleport her back and the horses in Bravil were in a rather poor condition, she opted for the slower but safer option. Her new horse for this journey was dark grey and relatively fast, which was a combination Lisette didn't mind at all.

She stopped at the Faregyl Inn for a quick lunch; the only other inn along the road was a place called the Inn of Ill Omen and the mage was sufficiently paranoid after her encounters with assassins to prefer a better populated environment with much better food, as a Khajiit that dealt with most of the cooking, including some fantastic potato bread, proudly noted.

An hour or so before sundown, Lisette was in Bravil, hoping that the hall would still be open. The dingy city was hardly to her tastes; it could barely be considered a city, with shack-like houses grouped together on the poor marshlands. It seemed to be glued together, ready to fall apart at the slightest push. Lisette could easily understand why everyone called it the ugliest town in Cyrodiil – Volanaro had once gone as far to call it a wart on the face of the province – and why it was likely that no one lived there by choice.

Stepping into the guildhall was like entering another world; it was still a poor-looking house, but at least it was finely furnished and contained the unmistakable signs of magic. None of the people who resided there looked like beggars or would-be thieves, which was another plus. Bravil was filled with both the former and the latter.

The person who greeted Lisette was the leader of the guildhall, an Argonian she remembered was called Kud-Ei. She was a nice enough person and a skilled Illusionist, as far as Lisette could tell. As was apparently her custom, she was sitting in her favorite chair and reading yet another book about Illusion spells. Perking up when she spotted Lisette, the Argonian stood up and greeted her warmly.

"Hello there, Conjurer." she said, shaking Lisette's hand. They knew each other's names – or so they both supposed, because the last visit wasn't so far into the past. "You have come from the Arcane University, have you not?"

"Indeed. I have brought what you asked for." Lisette nodded, producing the nearly-wrapped staff and handing it to the Argonian, who immediately showed her race's equivalent of a smile. It was disorienting at first for someone unused to such expressions, but she had met enough Argonians to be able to tell that Kud-Ei was near jubilant.

"Oh, thank you! That brings a weigh off my shoulders!" she sighed gladly, taking the staff almost as if it was a holy relic. Lisette hadn't been told the details, but apparently, the affair had something to do with a petty revenge of some young man who didn't get his feelings returned. The staff itself likely didn't belong to Kud-Ei personally. "We didn't really know what to do. But I see Raminus still maintains an open door policy."

"Indeed. You will see to things or should I deliver it?"

"Oh, no, no. You have done more than enough for us already. I hope it wasn't too much trouble retrieving it from the buyer." Kud-Ei noted, knowing that if the buyer was a Dunmer like the jealous thief, it couldn't have been easy to convince him to part with his treasure. Mage staves were pricey out of the arcane field and their symbolic value only added to that.

"Not at all. Charm spells are very useful in such cases, I've heard."

Illusion being Bravil's specialization, Kud-Ei seemed truly pleased about how the situation had been resolved. "I see, then. I will go and ask my colleagues to prepare you a room where you might stay for the night. Then you can get going to the Imperial City in the morning, if you wish."

"Thank you, then." Lisette said, partly happy that she wouldn't have to travel at night, but mostly thankful that she was a member of the Guild and thus didn't have to seek out a less reputable place for a night's rest. "I don't suppose there are too many sights to be seen in Bravil?"

The Argonian saw that she was asking this mostly to be polite, not out of any true enthusiasm. Evidently, she had seen the streets already.

"Not really, I'm afraid. Bravil is exactly as you've seen it on your way here – a poor town. The only thing of note aside from the temple and our guildhall could be the statue." she noted. Yes, that was a possible landmark.

"Which one?" Lisette asked. Even a poor city had to have a few statues in honor of the Nine. She herself wasn't a fanatically devoted worshipper, though.

Kud-Ei gave a slightly tight smile. "The only one of note. The statue of the Lucky Old Lady."

Lisette blinked. She didn't know that one. "That doesn't sound like a religious statue."

"No, it isn't. It isn't exactly pagan or Daedric either. It's just to the right of the entrance to the temple, on a small square." Kud-Ei herself didn't know much about the statue, but it was really likely the only noteworthy work of art in their sad little town. Certainly the only thing worthy of a pilgrimage.

"I'll go see it, then." Lisette brightened up a bit. At least there was something good about the town. "But what is it a statue of?"

"Like I said, an old lady." Kud-Ei shrugged. Evidently, she had never really thought about the statue in depth. "The locals believe it to have magical properties."

"Why isn't it studied, then?"

"That would be against the wishes of the public. Besides, it has never done anyone any harm. They say that if you kiss the statue's cheek, you get a small blessing." The Argonian gave a somewhat gurgle-like laugh. She had visited the statue a few times out of curiosity, but a blessing such as that rarely lasted for long. "Useless, really."

"Why would it be useless? If the locals believe it and it works, it might be true." Lisette noted, feeling somewhat scholarly.

Kud-Ei noticed that and made no move to dissuade her from this course of action. "You can investigate it, if you like. Here, however, we have little of the luxury the Arcane University does."

"I'm sorry. It must be hard here."

"We make do." It was the simplest answer. Then, happily, the Argonian realized that Lisette seemed to have a similar nature to their poor robbed alchemist. "Now come. Raminus mentioned you were an alchemist. Our Ardaline is new to town and she knows very few people here. You might become friends."

The friendship in question had too little time to develop, as Lisette fully intended to leave the next morning and remained true to that promise, but at least the evening was more pleasant in good company. The Altmer, however, was far shyer than even Lisette considered herself, so it was highly understandable why she was going through these woes.

Kud-Ei thanked her once again and directed her towards the statue Lisette wanted to visit before leaving the city. It was certainly likely the most impressive sight Bravil had to offer. Finely crafted, obviously created with great care, the statue itself was actually beautiful, despite the obvious age of the figure it represented.

Lisette knew immediately why people liked it; it was smiling, as if to say that hope was not yet lost. It was truly like something out of a distant dream that the citizens of Bravil clung to, like a beacon. Contrary to its surroundings, it was obviously a well-respected statue, as it was almost completely clean and perfect, save for the erosion the teeth of time had provided. There was no dirt upon it and though it was next to impossible to determine the race of the old lady herself, as her ears were concealed and her features not distinct enough to attribute to any specific race.

These things were all obvious to the ordinary eye.

However, Lisette, as a trained mage and someone who was seeing the statue for the first time, felt something strange around it. It was an aura of magic, there was no doubt of that. It wasn't nearly strong enough to be registered by weaker practitioners of the arcane, but it was impossible to ignore once noticed. Subtle, like a gentle breeze that could eventually turn into a gale and blow out a fire. Except that it couldn't be that; Lisette knew sufficiently enough about magicka to be able to classify it appropriately.

This… aura, if it could be called that, didn't belong to any of the schools of magic she knew.

It was just… there. Like a background noise one normally ignored because of a single voice rising above the crowd. But the more Lisette looked into the gentle face of the Lucky Old Lady, the more sinister the sensation became. She couldn't describe it very well. It was like looking at a wonderful picture of an idyllic paradise. Suddenly, the details began to change and in the end, the beauty became superficial and the darker roots of it began to emerge.

She must have been standing there for quite some time, appearing transfixed, because when a hand was gently laid on her shoulder, Lisette, startled from her reverie, almost gave a jump. She whirled around to see an Altmer, dressed in a mage's robes, watching her with slight worry.

"Are you all right, miss?" he asked carefully, taking into account that her pale countenance was likely the result of her startled mood.

"Wha-? Oh, yes, yes, I am." Lisette mentally slapped herself for articulating such intelligent responses. It must have seemed as if she had been daydreaming. Which wasn't off from the truth, really. "I'm sorry. I just thought… never mind."

The Altmer frowned, apparently concerned for a fellow mage. He was young, by Altmer standards, having the friendly face of a daydreamer himself. "You seem pale. Perhaps you should go to the temple. It's just there."

"No, no, I always get this pale when… I don't know." Lisette finished lamely, cursing her inability to recover and adapt to situations quickly.

"Perhaps I could help you somehow."

Before she could get the chance to answer, Lisette heard a window opening not too far away. She saw no one, however, and eventually chalked it up to her own paranoia. After her past encounters with assassins, however, Lisette believed that she had the right to be slightly jumpy whenever something unexpected happened around her. This time, it was fully justified, even though she would never be aware of that fact.

Her voice and that of the Altmer easily carried over the somewhat empty square and could be heard even within the small shack with the now opened window. However, it wasn't the Listener of the Black Hand who opened the window; Ungolim, for his part, was more than certain that if, after centuries, the true purpose of the little statue in Bravil had not been discovered, then no one would discover it simply by stumbling across it. He himself had not entered the crypt at any occasion before, though he knew it was there; the previous Listener had him chosen as his successor and the Night Mother had approved of this decision. That had been years ago.

Perhaps through the will of the Night Mother or that of some other deity, it was Lucien Lachance who opened the window carefully, slowly. He, too, had risen in rank over the past few months, not only because of his almost failed mission at the Arcane University. While he hardly ever thought about it, being too practical and pragmatic a person to dwell on what ifs, he easily recognized the Breton's face even from afar when she whirled around to face the Altmer. What she was doing here or why she was studying the statue, he didn't know nor did he put too much value to that information.

But it was her, the tricky little mageling. For the first time ever since the task of acting as a courier had been delegated to him, Lachance felt that perhaps it wasn't a complete waste of time. Ungolim, who he still knew only as a member of the Black Hand, was still reading the report on a particularly messy and delicate assassination; he didn't even raise his head when the Eliminator spotted something of interest outside.

"You are a member of the Mages Guild, I see, but not from here – else I would know you." the Altmer was saying when he caught their conversation. Introductions. How lovely. Now he would perhaps find out if the information he remembered was correct.

"Lisette Lemieux, Conjurer from the Arcane University."

It didn't surprise him much when Blanche introduced herself under another name. With a Breton somewhere down his family tree, Lucien knew enough to tell that this was a very typical Breton name – it took some gall to call oneself "the best".

The Altmer gave a smile, as if an idea had popped into his head just then. "Ah, you must be the one Kud-Ei mentioned. Pleased to meet you; my name is Henantier, of the resident guildhall."

"I didn't see you there yesterday, I'm sorry." Blanche-Lisette was saying apologetically as the Altmer helped her down from the small pedestal in front of the statue when she almost tripped over the hem of her robe.

"Oh, naturally. I have started researching at home for some part. But if you're from the University, you likely have a broader knowledge of magic than I." It was a compliment, as the Altmer was wearing the insignia of the Warlock rank, which was higher than a Conjurer, as far as Lachance was aware. It went largely unnoticed by the Breton.

"Or perhaps I am simply not accustomed to this." she noted, stating a fact, not making polite conversation. She was still very pale, living up to her nickname. The bland, common first name hardly suited her.

"What is the matter?" the Altmer asked when she gestured towards the Lucky Old Lady, who remained completely unchanged.

"It's this statue."

"What of it?"

"I think…" Blanche squinted a bit when she looked at the statue, as if trying to see something that was meant to remain concealed. "I _think_ I sense some faint magic around it, but I cannot identify it."

"The Lucky Old Lady is said to issue blessings to those who come to pay their respects to is." the Altmer noted. Everyone in Bravil was aware of this, even beyond the city. Some people made pilgrimages to the statue in vain hopes that they would be blessed. Foolish, really.

"Well, I wouldn't put much weigh to such blessings if they aren't from the Nine." Apparently, she thought about suggesting that the Daedra Lords also issued true blessings, but thought better of it. In any case, Daedra were better known for issuing curses than blessings.

"That is a paradox, then. A blessing must be considered magic. And if you don't believe in the blessing, how can you claim the statue has an aura of magic?" the Altmer noted, pointing out the flaw in her reasoning.

"That isn't what I meant. There is magic around it, but… it's like…" Blanche seemed to struggle with words when she wanted to describe the severity of something. "Like a whisper on the edge of hearing. I know it's there, I just… cannot decipher it."

"There are many tales regarding the statue. Most people don't really want to find out anything about it." the Altmer explained. It was the truth, really; as long as the statue was harmless and helpful, most people saw nothing wrong with it. It was also why some people were suspicious of mages; mages were always trying to clear the mystical and define everything with their own logic, which often upset clerics and worshippers even more.

"But it could be dangerous." Blanche insisted with the stubbornness of a researcher whose pet project had just been dismissed as unimportant.

"Dangerous? Miss Lemieux, the statue issues blessings to us all! In fact, there is a most wonderful legend about it in a book called _Daughter of the Niben_; you should read that."

Blanche shook her head, but she didn't appear offended. "I prefer facts to legends, I'm afraid."

"The only fact I can offer is that the Lady has always been a blessing on our city, no matter what her origin."

They proceeded with the usual talk in circles mages seemed to be so fond of. Debating needless facts, going over theories without any actual proof. Fortunately, they didn't move out of sight of the square, which was pleasing. Lucien didn't really know why he was interested in watching them converse. His near-defeat at the hands of an unarmed girl had been a blow to his professional pride, but no one else had ever heard of the slightly embarrassing failure in planning. He supposed that it was professional curiosity. Anyone who could react so quickly and subdue a Dark Brotherhood assassin for long enough to escape them and raise hell was worthy of notice.

"You know those mages?"

Lachance wasn't startled by hearing the Listener speak; it only showed his skills of observation. He had heard some complaints aimed at the Bosmer before, nothing too precise, but it couldn't be said that his high rank was undeserved. At least, not yet. But on the other hand, it was easy to spot that something had caught his attention outside and the two robed mages were the only noteworthy thing outside.

Lucien took this as his cue to close the window. There weren't too many people in the city that would have been able to discern and interpret their conversation, but the Dark Brotherhood hadn't survived the centuries by being careless. Aside from that, he had sufficient information now to track Blanche down, should he wish to find her again.

"Yes, honored Brother." he said, addressing Ungolim neutrally. Speakers and Silencers were the only ones who knew the Listener's identity; at times, only the former. Lachance had no way of knowing which of those three ranks Ungolim was, but it was reason enough to be polite. "The girl I encountered her at the Arcane University during an assignment."

"Regarding that illegitimate child, the Redguard…Bronwyn, was it?" Ungolim was remarkably well-informed and had a talent for memorizing details, at least on a short-term basis.

Lachance gave a curt nod. "Indeed."

"Tell me what you know about her." Lucien didn't know why he was being asked this, but complied.

"There is little I can tell you. She seems to have risen in rank recently; she introduced herself under a different name, though she wasn't lying." She had worn different robes then, those of a Journeyman. It was questionable how much he should reveal; after all, it was a failing on his part, even though the mission had been completed. At least the Brotherhood didn't demote its members – or Lucien hadn't heard of such practices. "I was forced to attempt to incapacitate her to complete the mission, but she almost succeeded in doing the same to me."

"She has seen your face, then." Ungolim noted, raising his gaze to meet that of Lachance.

It was not a question and the Listener rumpled the piece of parchment he was holding before throwing it into the nearby fire. One would think someone so high-ranked would make a habit of archiving letters, but, unlike the rest of the Black Hand, Ungolim tried his best to appear completely unremarkable and had no true "day job". He somehow believed that made him devoid of the responsibility to manage his correspondence.

"Yes."

The chair he was sitting on creaked a bit as the Bosmer shifted. He had a very good reason for asking these things; unlike Lucien, he knew that it took more than a standard mage to be able to detect any kind of enchantment around the statue. He himself was relatively deaf to it and he had not yet encountered anyone who would sense it upon first glance. Aside from that, the girl seemed a somewhat nosey sort, which was a problem most Bretons (if he interpreted her name correctly) seemed to share.

However, an idea came to his mind. Currently, the "reign" of Adamus Phillida was nearing its end, but the good officer always made certain that whatever connections they had to the outside world were effectively severed. It was difficult to keep the Brotherhood effectively supplied; in particular, magical equipment of high quality was difficult to acquire. Stocking up on ingredients always required time and people, most of which the Dark Brotherhood preferred to invest elsewhere. Any help in supplying them was highly sought-after.

And the Arcane University was more than just a symbol – it was truly a center of magical education. If someone on the inside were to help them – willingly or otherwise – not only would it be a triumph right under Phillida's nose that would put him back into favor with the Black Hand, but it would be a very good working arrangement that couldn't be traced back to them.

If discovered, it would only cost them the mage, who wasn't a true loss, or the link between her and the Brotherhood, which was the Eliminator. Both were losses that could be acceptable, depending on the situation, though Ungolim preferred to think positively.

"Perhaps that could be to our advantage. I have a task for you, Eliminator." Ungolim said finally, after pondering this. It could work.

"Honored Brother?" Lachance asked, somewhat apprehensive.

Apart from the fact that he truly didn't like having anyone other than his immediate superiors ordering him around, he simply didn't like Ungolim much. There were many reasons, none worth mentioning at the current time. The fact that he believed the task he was about to be delegated with likely had nothing to do with the usual agenda of the Dark Brotherhood and everything to do with one Breton mage was only another tick on the list.

"We cannot risk having our kin identified. And it would serve to our advantage to have a link to the Arcane University." the Bosmer noted, thinking out loud, expecting Lucien to fill in the gaps. And the Imperial did, without problems.

Well, it seemed that he wasn't going to be asked to kill this Blanche. That was a bonus. He supposed that effectively cancelled out the debt he had to her; the Phylactery of Lightness had been a help with assignments that involved moving bodies around. She would have likely tried to repay the strangling by trying some of her spells on him, though he supposed she wouldn't be able to react much better than he had if he used her own diversion against her. Plus, with her broadened arsenal of spells, even getting into range would be likely hard.

"What am I to do, then?"

"For now, simply observe the mage." Ungolim instructed, quickly scribbling a note to the Speaker in Cheydinhal that he was going to borrow one of her Family members for a while. Scouting missions like this shouldn't take too long and if something interesting turned up, all the better. Every assassin knew their prey before striking, be it a death blow or a bargain. "If she is a threat, you are free to deal with her as you see fit. If she manages to prove useful, there are ways of getting what we want."

Lucien wondered about those last words. He could guess what Ungolim wanted; one mage was hardly a threat to the Brotherhood. It was closer to the assessing of a potential ally; as a semi-advanced self-trained student of the arcane himself, Lachance knew that the guild had fallen on hard times in recent months as far as potion supplies were concerned. Moreover, mages from the University had access to not only the vast libraries and resources of the Mages Guild, but also to information that a Brother or Sister on a mission might never acquire or stumble upon only after painstaking research.

But if anyone was to ask what he wanted, the answer would be simple. He would very much like to see the faint color drain from the young woman's face once more, due to recognition, not only dread. In his experience, that always made the sight all the sweeter.


	8. Arsenic

Another chapter, another plot. Long chapter! Everything is progressing nicely, according to plan and the Mages Guild storyline is being implemented into the story. In short, I have little else to say: read, review and spread the love!

**o.O.o**

**Arsenic**

**o.O.o**

The journey back to the Imperial City was pleasantly uneventful, which was the way Lisette preferred it. She could deal with boredom without any trouble and remained in a generally good mood. Especially since she managed to find Raminus Polus relatively quickly once she got back, her horse didn't get into too much trouble and she would hopefully get the rest of the day off.

It was too late to go to any classes anyway and she was usually excused as an official envoy. Raminus trusted her, which was nice, if easily earning her the reputation of a lackey. Lisette didn't really care that much; considering the sizable population of spare noble-born children around the university, they were bound to create their own petty hierarchy. Considering that she refused to boast her family name or promote it, there was little to put her higher on said societal ladder.

At least her studious nature was sufficient to ward off the nastier rumors about her swift rise in rank.

In any case, the task was accomplished, the day was not yet over and Raminus commended her for her efficiency. "I imagine Kud-Ei was pleased to have the staff back. Hopefully, such an incident will not be repeated."

After a lengthy discussion about Illusion magic with Henantier, the Altmer she had met at the Lucky Old Lady statue, Lisette had left Bravil in a generally content mood that only a job well done could bring. She, too, was sort of wondering about what kind of admirer stole his beloved's possessions to gain attention.

"Indeed, Master-Wizard. Thank you for trusting me with this task." she said gratefully. It was more engaging than the errands from Jeanne – especially since there were no nicknames involved. That reminded her, she could send a letter to Selena today; she tried to keep in touch with her former guildhall, even though it was almost unnecessary with the amount of letters she received from Jeanne.

Having seen Raminus with a piece of familiar stationery once, they could both empathize with one another. It was part of a nice coexistence.

The Imperial smiled. "Don't mention it at all, Miss Lemieux. I am thankful for your discretion and your capabilities. Perhaps I have been slightly too harsh in my judgment of Jeanne's teaching methods… or perhaps you have only been more successful in avoiding them than you have let on." It was obvious which one he thought more likely.

Lisette wasn't quite certain how to reply to that; she was aware that Raminus was replying to Jeanne's correspondence on an almost annual basis, but the head of the Bruma guildhall couldn't be dissuaded by something so trivial as a lack of replies. On the contrary; it made her more daring, more enthusiastic in her descriptions.

"Not every lesson has to be related strictly to magic." It was a carefully-worded response on the whole. If nothing else, Lisette had learned some wordplay at the Arcane University; or how to speak without saying anything at all.

It also seemed to be the correct answer, at least because Raminus maintained his pleasant expression. "We are most grateful for that here. In any case, I am glad that Kud-Ei was happy. She is a very capable leader, so it must have been a very sensitive issue."

"I suppose." Lisette shrugged lightly. It wasn't probable that she would be returning to Bravil, let alone staying at the resident guildhall. There were other things to occupy her attention here. "May I go, Master-Wizard?"

"Actually, there was one more thing I wished to ask of you." Raminus paused a moment, both to catch her attention and to mentally reevaluate if this was a good idea. He won the argument with himself, though, and decided to opt to trust her with this. "If you aren't opposed to a trip in the opposite direction this time, that is."

As she had just returned, Lisette felt a little apprehensive about the situation, not to mention tired. "I would gladly help, but I'm somewhat tired today…"

"I wouldn't suggest the task to you if it was so urgent that it couldn't wait a day or so. You are reliable in these matters and," Here the Master Wizard appeared a touch too rueful. "The more often you get to leave the University, the better for you."

"Of course. Whatever you need of me." Lisette said immediately, though her heart sank a bit. She had hoped for a bit less attention by now, but it seemed that things hadn't yet quieted down. "Where am I to go?"

"This is a rather… sensitive issue." They sat down in the Arch-Mage's lobby; no one else was present, as they were most likely having lunch by then or still immersed in their own business. The Imperial often came there to collect his thoughts, speak with others or simply read in peace. Usually, students didn't come here without reason. "More so than this business with the stolen staff."

"It must be of grave importance, then." Lisette sat down in a slightly heavier fashion than usual, still feeling the weight of the journey.

Raminus nodded without explaining too much. "It is; it concerns the Guild as a whole."

"Tell me more."

"The Mages Guild is going through tough times, Miss Lemieux; I won't lie to you. The Necromancers are becoming bold." What Raminus didn't mention was that recently, during an initiation ritual involving the creation of staves, several associates and mages had been killed by Necromancers unexpectedly desecrating the ritual grounds. "Are you familiar with Janus Hassildor, the Count of Skingrad?"

"I have been to his city before, but never for long." Lisette admitted, "I have a friend at the local guildhall and I go to shop at Sinderion's whenever I am in the vicinity, which isn't often."

"Ah, yes, Sinderion." The name was evidently familiar even to the Master-Wizard. "I myself haven't been able to visit him as often as I would like, with my duties. Nevertheless, you are going to visit the Count himself, not your guildmates this time."

"What does the Count have to do with the Mages Guild?" the Breton asked, frowning.

"He is rumored to be a powerful wizard himself, isn't he?"

Lisette fidgeted slightly. There were many rumors about Janus Hassildor, most of them likely fables. "I try not to put too much stock to rumors, sir."

"That is a very fortunate mindset to have, Miss Lemieux. In any case, the Count has been loaned a book from the Council of Mages and we would like to retrieve it." Raminus seemed somewhat glad that she didn't ask any other questions regarding the Count. "I am afraid that I cannot even give you the title of the book; it is strictly available only to the Council members and has been loaned only under special circumstances."

"Should I ask the Count to give me the package as he received it, then?"

"We believe that would be for the best." Raminus managed to read her with relative ease. She was an inquisitive one, for all her soft-spoken timid words in class. It was an understandable temptation for any intelligent mind. "Don't worry, Miss Lemieux. I am certain that one day, you will be allowed to read your fill of every book in the Mystic Archives."

As was her strange habit, Lisette paled before her cheeks became tinged with crimson. "Forgive me, Master-Wizard."

"There is nothing to forgive – curiosity with a good reason and even better intention shouldn't be denied. This time, we will be able to teleport you to the city; if you know the guildhall there, you know Adrienne Berene." The name was obviously familiar to her, so there was no further need for explanations. "She is more than capable of sending you back to the University through means of teleportation."

"Thank you." Lisette stood up, straightening her robes, which still bore the marks of travel. "Should I set out immediately?"

"You have only just arrived; I mentioned this isn't as urgent." Though the willingness was commendable, Raminus could see the dark circles around her eyes. Likely, she was sustained more by her will than her own endurance. "Take an hour or two to rest before considering the idea. We can meet here after breakfast tomorrow and I will send you on your way myself."

Lisette nodded and entered the Arcane University, willing to head back straight to her dorm and to bed for the few hours she made any further decision. She already knew she would go, of course. But still, rest would be welcome.

Teleportation was usually strangely exhausting for all involved, so she intended to be prepared. She didn't encounter too many people, but she almost bumped into Merete, the Nord battlemage with a plump, pleasant face she had befriended some time ago. In contrast to her, Merete brightened up like the sun when she saw the tired Breton.

"Blanche! There you are! Dusyanta said she saw you come back!" she said happily. Merete was one of the few who used that nickname, along with her cousin. Not too many people used it and even less of them were approved by Lisette.

The Breton gave a tired smile. "Hey, Merete."

"Hey yourself! You get to get out of this place once in a while!" the Nord didn't seem remotely resentful, perking up immediately and almost dragging her away to one of the benches. "Anyway, Ivar and I were about to head out into the city and pick up that armor he had ordered."

"A replacement for the one he ruined a week ago?" Lisette remembered that practice duel incident quite well.

Merete grinned knowingly. "Yeah, Rohssan said that the fireball into the chest he took was far too much for the poor breastplate. He needed a new one completely."

"That will be pricey." Rohssan was one of the few better smiths in the city, meaning one of the more expensive and more skilled ones. And mages, especially those still in training, hardly had a large salary. "At least he'll learn to take better care of this one, though."

"Yeah, right." Merete rolled her eyes. They both knew that such words were only wishful thinking on their part. Rushing into battle without thinking about the consequences beforehand was something that ran in every Nordic bloodline, it seemed. "Anyway, why don't you come with us? We could go to the Feed Bag after that and get some sweetrolls!"

"I'm sorry, Merete…" This was what she was afraid of; Merete didn't handle rejection well. "I can't go."

"Can't or don't want to?" she asked quickly, frowning in a sad but suspicious manner that immediately made Lisette's conscience bash her over her head.

"Don't say that." she asked imploringly. "I can't, Master-Wizard Polus has another task for me."

"Master-Wizard Polus can get anyone in the University to jump through hoops for him, even the Arch-Mage, I'd say. Why you?" Merete demanded, folding her arms. The Council wasn't too different if it could exploit various lower-ranking members to its liking. In fact, the Nord had the unkind suspicion that her friend had been so quickly promoted only to facilitate this usage better and sent on these errands to get her out of sight and make it seem that everything was all right.

That the incident had never happened.

"Well… he said it would be good for me to get out more…"

"Oh, I get it." The Nord rolled her eyes. Obviously, she wasn't going to get anywhere. "Look, Blanche, you have to stop worrying!" Merete nudged the Breton in a friendly manner that, due to her strength, almost sent her crashing into the nearest wall. "You were very lucky and that's all. You can't put stock to what some idiots say."

Lisette felt the color drain from her face, but only a little. "What do they say?"

"That you got way too lucky. And that's the truth and we all believe you." Merete added hastily. She didn't believe any of that nonsense that Lisette might have had something to do with this. It was simple coincidence and luck, no more, no less. Bad luck, possibly, but Merete wasn't going to suggest that right now.

"Look, I'm really sorry." Lisette said pleadingly. "But I'm supposed to meet him tomorrow and then head off to Skingrad."

Merete almost did a double-take and stopped dead in her tracks. "Skingrad? That's the other end of the province! Since when are we short on couriers?"

"It's not a matter for a simple courier." Lisette was carefully studying her thoroughly unremarkable doeskin shoes, which was a sign that this was both serious and secret. Her promotion to Conjurer had made her worthy of seeing the Count; a rank she would doubtless have to prove herself worthy of in time.

"Darn." But the Nord grabbed her by the sleeve and began pulling her away from the University. "Oh, well, a day is more than enough, come on!"

Lucien Lachance never ceased to be amazed by what one could learn simply by listening to loud Nords.

**o.O.o**

After an enforced picnic with Merete and Thalfin, another battlemage-in-training, Lisette managed to get quite a lot of sleep, so she was in a much better mood when she agreed to accept the errand. Merete would probably disapprove yet understand at the same time.

In any case, she was fortunate enough to be successfully teleported to the city and actually managed to find where she was supposed to go. She avoided the temple and its vicinity instinctively.

Castle Skingrad was grand and beautiful, majestically built atop a mountain, just like a fairytale might claim. The only other such building that compared in terms of impressive architecture was the Imperial Palace, White Gold Tower; whatever Lisette had seen before in High Rock seemed like Bravil in comparison.

The main hall was spectacular, filled with many people of many races. Skingrad was a cosmopolitan city, large and wonderful to the casual visitor. Lisette was a bit sad that she didn't manage to see as much of it as she would have liked yet; she had arrived at the guildhall after her teleportation, greeted Adrienne Berene, missed Erthor, unfortunately and then went straight to the castle.

Of course, it was impossible to meet with the Count himself just like that; there were many rumors about Janus Hassildor, not all of them pleasant, but if anything was true, it was that he didn't entertain visitors. And all of his meetings went through either his steward, who wasn't available at the moment or his other personal secretary, as Lisette dubbed him, a sleazy-looking foppish Imperial by the name of Mercator Hosidus.

Even from the very first moment, she hadn't been too comfortable with his presence. The man just wasn't quite right somehow. "Excuse me? I'm from the Mages Guild, here to see Count Hassildor."

There was far too much straightening potion in the man's hair and he glanced at her as if she were less than the dirt beneath his feet.

"Mages Guild you say?" he repeated, glancing at her robes. She might as well have been dressed in rags if one was to judge by the look he gave her. "Yes, yes… I see. The Count has received news from your superiors that you would be coming. He is well-aware of your presence; he simply has no interest in seeing you. Not now, not _ever_." he emphasized, with too much glee.

Even Lisette was not so easily deceived. "I am sorry about that, but I am willing to wait no matter how long it will be necessary. Master-Wizard Raminus Polus has asked me to see to this matter."

"I see." Hosidus gave her an appraising look which was oddly disturbing. He radiated a bad vibe; Lisette could feel it. "I will see what can be done about your… problem. I wouldn't allow my expectations to be too high if I were in your shoes, though. Come back tomorrow, if you intend to try your luck." And he left without another word or glance, the stuck-up air vanishing with him. Where to, Lisette couldn't guess.

She felt a bit odd just standing there while doing nothing, so Lisette went into the city out of want for things to do.

She wasn't in the mood for shopping after that, so she passed the inn where Sinderion lived by. She really needed to stop volunteering for things. Perhaps Merete was right this time. It was just a little in too close sequence. The guildhall was as busy as she had left it and this day seemed to be "running into people" day because Erthor narrowly avoided crashing into her at the door to the alchemy lab.

The Bosmer recognized her from underneath the stack of scrolls he had accidentally dumped on her and brightened up immediately. "Lisette, how nice- I mean, I bid you welcome, Conjurer Lemieux." he amended, uncharacteristically quietly and sternly.

"Erthor, there's no need for that." She outranked him now, yes, but that didn't mean she had to enforce this like that. She didn't consider herself his superior in any sense of the word.

"Sorry." Erthor grinned faintly, likely pleased by that approach. "Adrienne has been rather insistent on following protocol nowadays and… well, it kind of makes one wish they were at a different guildhall. She doesn't even appreciate the open-mindedness of my experiments!"

"What experiments? Perhaps I could help?" Erthor plus experiments equaled excitement and danger in one. She could likely prevent disaster by helping.

But the Bosmer shook his head quickly. "Oh, no, no, no. A new Destruction spell, comparable to the famed Enemies Explode only really much more… explodey!" he said at last, unable to find the correct word. His face was so enthusiastic, Lisette had to smile. "I don't think you could help me much, unless you would summon up some creatures for me to practice on."

"I think I'd rather not." Enemies Explode was a _very_ potent spell and if Erthor wanted to go further… well, she liked her robes clean, thank you.

"I thought not." Erthor sighed slightly, but he didn't seem disappointed. He was actually glad that Lisette had come to visit after so long, even though he found he preferred her with red hair and in a dress, for some reason. "Well, anyway, you came to get a place to rest, right? I don't suppose this is just a cordial visit, though I would appreciate that too."

Lisette grimaced slightly; she couldn't say much about that. "Council business, I'm afraid."

But that hardly dissuaded the Bosmer. "Ooh, lucky you! I don't think I'll ever get to the University again. Adrienne is always too busy to even notice the groundbreaking value of my research!"

"I'm sure she will someday." Lisette assured him, though she was somewhat with Adrienne on this one – even if she never said it out loud. It was probably safer for all of Cyrodiil that way.

"Well, I hope so. Anyway, can you tell me about this mission of yours or is it top-secret?"

That wasn't much of a secret, it worded correctly, she supposed. "I have to get an audience with the Count, but apparently, he doesn't want to see me."

"What?" Erthor seemed astonished and, for the first time, serious. Janus Hassildor was known for diplomacy, among other things. Saying that he didn't want to see her… that didn't sound like him. "He doesn't see too many people, but he can't ignore someone on Council business. You did say that you were, right? Who did you speak to?"

"Mercator Hosidus; he sets up the appointments, doesn't he?"

Erthor visibly shuddered. "Yes, yes he does. Slimy little toad, that one. Something just rubs me the wrong way about him."

"I get the feeling too." Lisette nodded.

"You would have been better off speaking to Hal-Liurz, I guess, but nothing you can do now. Just… be careful." the Bosmer said uncertainly. Last time, there had been a murder when Lisette had been in the city. Hopefully, it was just unfortunate luck. "I get a bad vibe out of Hosidus whenever I see him at the inn, which isn't often, mercifully."

"Don't worry so much."

"Okay. Well, in the mean time, come on – I'll show you my newest take on the spell!"

Lisette already believed that this trip would be somewhat more _dynamic_ than the last one.

**o.O.o**

Lucien was swift enough to arrive in Skingrad and locate Lisette before her "meeting with the Count" was to take place. He also managed to discover that said meeting was to take at two in the morning near Cursed Mine. How poignant; someone had obviously given this thought. The Count of Skingrad might be a recluse for reasons of his own, but he certainly wouldn't meet a courier of the Mages Guild outside a _cave_ of all places. The part about night he could understand, though.

As Vicente sometimes said, the Count did indeed enjoy his evenings. But the Brotherhood had nothing to gain by spreading word of that, so it remained a secret.

He privately wondered if Blanche was nearly gullible enough to agree to this obvious trap; it turned out that she was, because she left the city at the appointed time and headed towards the agreed location. She didn't seem armed, as was typical with mages, but neither did she seem at ease. Traveling at night without even a light was hardly comforting and perhaps she sensed that not everything was correct with this meeting.

Nevertheless, she arrived at the appointed place and glanced around. It was within sight of the city walls, but far away enough not to alert the sentinels and the guards. In short, the perfect spot for a quiet murder.

In the dark, Lucien spotted the three figures easily, but they had to come closer for the mage to see them as well. One of them was obviously from the castle; a traitor among the residents, without a doubt. The other two were clad in robes of Necromancers, without any shame. All were armed; not heavily, but more than enough to take down a single unarmed opponent.

Either whatever message Blanche was carrying was important or she had successful angered several Necromancers at once. In that case, Lucien would have congratulated for her foolishness. It took a special kind of thickhead to march directly into a trap unarmed.

"Well, well, well. A little Breton, all alone in the woods." one of the cloaked Necromancers jeered.

"You're early, mage." the Imperial said, but he didn't seem displeased. His grin was as smug and greasy as his hair. "Fortunately, we are, too."

In the pale moonlight, Blanche seemed particularly ghost-like, but she wasn't panicking just yet. "The Council will know of this." Credit had to be given to the fact that her voice trembled only a bit and it took training to detect the break.

The leader sneered, as if to say he had expected better threats. "Your Council will know nothing, as it knows nothing now. No one will search for you, mage. But don't worry. You will be put to good use posthumously."

The mage fortunately wasn't entirely clueless, as she didn't just stand there with a dumb stare.

Blanche took a step back and raised her right arm and managed a summoning spell. In a flash of magic, a tall Dremora in full armor stood before her, summoned from Oblivion itself and, with a bestial cry, launched himself at the nearest Necromancer. The mage cast furiously at it, but he was armed only with a dagger and so began to flee, only to be chased by the Daedric creature.

Once the first Necromancer wasn't focusing on her, Blanche quickly ducked two Destruction spells heading her way and shot her own bolt of ice. Her aim had improved greatly and she succeeded in freezing the casting arm of the other robed Necromancer. But the Imperial, who seemed to be the weakest spellcaster and closest to her, drew a knife; an attack against which she had little defense, especially as she seemed intent on taking them down one by one.

Lisette felt the knife graze the sleeve of her robe, but before it could cut deeply, there was a twang and a swishing sound. She whirled around, only to see that Mercator had been shot into the shoulder joint of the arm with which he had intended to stab her, inches away from making the hit. She stumbled away from him immediately and cast the strongest shock spell she had at close range, hitting the Imperial with the full power of the spell.

It was the tree behind them all, her attackers realized, and the Necromancer whose arm was now rid of the ice summoned a zombie without a head which stumbled in the general dissection of the tree, ready to kill anyone that was trying to save her.

In general, undead were only a menace to Lucien, a minor inconvenience. But taking one down with arrows at close range without catching a disease wasn't easy. In a moment, however, his own knife was hilt-deep in mort flesh and the zombie was cast away with a spell at close range. Thus revealed, Lucien made quick work of the Dunmer Necromancer, who was dead before he could summon another zombie, too slow to stop his arteries from bleeding when the assassin sliced his neck in the middle of his casting.

Looking to the right, Lucien saw the Dremora vanish back into Oblivion just before it could finish the job, which meant that Blanche was in trouble. The Imperial, half dead because of the arrows and shock spell, was still trying to stab her, clinging to her fiercely and practically wrestling with the Breton. His condition reduced his strength, but that didn't mean it was easier on Blanche. She tried to cast a spell, but the Imperial covered her mouth. Surprisingly, she bit into it fiercely, causing the man to let out a bestial cry and release her momentarily, long enough for her to summon a flame atronach, which didn't hesitate a moment before finishing frying the offender to a crisp.

However, it couldn't defend her from the Frenzy spell the remaining Necromancer tried to cast on her from up close. The Breton fell over in an attempt to dodge it, fortunately successful. In a swift, almost graceful movement, Lucien tossed the knife in the offender's direction and hit him squarely in the neck. Then, slowly, he walked up to the paralyzed and gasping Necromancer, gave a brief smile that only those who served Sithis with pleasure could give and quickly withdrew the knife from his neck, allowing the man to die quickly.

It was no further sense hiding, Lucien supposed, now that the mage had seen him. Walking up to the pale-faced mage, he offered her a hand to stand up, from which she edged away upon seeing his features underneath the hood of the customary armor of the Dark Brotherhood. In a way, he got his wish, it seemed; she recognized him without a doubt.

"You!" Lisette surveyed the face of her rescuer with wide eyes. Despite the black hood, his features were unmistakable; it was the assassin that had almost strangled her, the one who had almost been brought to justice because of her intervention. "What are you doing here?"

"Saving your precious posterior; you should be pleased." Lachance answered curtly, sheathing his blade. It was similar to the one she carried, only far more enchanted. Along with the bow and arrows, they were obviously intended to serve well in stealth and combat that wasn't really combat at all, but discretion.

"I am." she said honestly. Then, her face paling, Lisette noticed the droplets of dark crimson dripping from the assassin's black sleeve. Someone had landed a nasty spell on his shoulder; he was lucky to still have an arm. "You're wounded. Show me." She received a curious glance, but was allowed to inspect the wound. "It doesn't look too serious. I will heal it."

Without waiting for an answer, Lisette raised her palms and allowed the glow of magic to surface, knitting flesh together. It was an impulse upon seeing the injury; for a moment, she didn't even think about healing an assassin; she was healing a person.

Lucien certainly wondered why she was doing this.

"Aren't you going to kiss it better?" he asked somewhat snidely when the magic began working. It stung somewhat, but she obviously had some skill with healing. And though her glare was rather pathetic, she looked much more serious with a frown.

"I was trying to survive. It worked." Lisette noted as she returned to her Restoration. "Should I Drain Fatigue on you again?"

"You seemed to enjoy kissing death quite a lot." Lucien noted as the magic drained away the pain. He was much more accustomed to more painful remedies; there weren't too many skilled healers among the Brotherhood, let alone ones who healed without making the patient wish they didn't have the hurt limb or body part at all.

"These guys here beat me on that front." The mage glanced at the three corpses with some disdain, even though she hadn't technically killed any of those. Her magic wasn't trained for that, obviously, even though it would have served her better that way. "They're Necromancers, if you haven't yet guessed."

"You're much chattier today." Perhaps this was how she dealt with stress, Lucien supposed. She kept pointedly looking at anything but the bodies and as long as she didn't look up at his face, she seemed generally calm, much more than a person who had almost died – yet again – should seem.

Lisette frowned at the wound. There was no sense beating around the bush. "That probably has something to do with the fact you haven't killed me yet."

Ah, yes. There was that. She was likely expecting some petty bloodthirsty vengeance and the fact that he had saved her was confusing her. Just as Lucien was about to make a particularly good reply to that, he heard pointed footsteps not too far away and pushed the mage's hands away, breaking the Restoration. The wound was sealed well enough and he could still fight, should the need arise.

"Someone is coming." he hissed quietly, standing behind Lisette as she turned around to face the direction he was looking at, to both cover her and give her room to cast spells.

Whoever was coming made no attempt to disguise their presence and as soon as the figure came into sight, it became quite clear why. It was an Imperial man in expensive clothes, though what was most startling about him were his slightly sunken red eyes and skin paler than normal. Lisette had read sufficient materials on vampires to recognize one, even though he seemed very young for his kind; his face was still young, almost entirely human, with very few symptoms.

Also, his clothes wore the symbol of Skingrad and so it was no problem at all for the mage to deduce that this was none other than the Count himself. He looked like the portrait she had seen at the castle, too. Only he was angry. Much more angry than on the picture.

"You gullible fool!" Lisette shrank back from the accusing roar, even though the Count spoke in a completely civilized manner, rage and vampirism aside. "What in the world made you think I would meet you _here_, of all places?"

Lucien also cared to know the answer to such a question, but it didn't surprise him to see the girl bow her head slightly. "Forgive me, Your Grace, but I believe this is what someone would call a whim. I had no choice; I was tasked to see you."

It seemed that the Count wanted to say something different, but, seeing the bodies of the Necromancers, chose to keep his critique of their approach to himself.

"What's done is done. I supposed you handled yourself well enough… both of you." His eyes, keener than those of a mortal, easily fell on the figure of Lucien. Hiding from a vampire's senses was nearly impossible, as they could hear the blood pumping through a living body, though this time, Lucien didn't choose to practice his skills in that. "I know your robes, mage, but I would know who you are, Imperial, before I choose to share your life."

It was predictable, of course; the Count was keeping his unusual condition a carefully guarded secret, and thus it was only understandable that he would want to know who he was revealing it to. Lucien, too, inclined his head in a bow before answering.

"I apologize for the intrusion, your Grace." he said, politely enough, but he refused to defer to the aristocrat beyond that. "I am an acquaintance of Vicente Valtieri."

The Count, clearly familiar with that name, drew the correct conclusion and only observed Lucien for a couple of moments before understanding the severity of the situation. "I see. The situation has caught his attention as well, then."

"Indeed. At least we have managed to root out the weeds in your own castle, Your Grace, though I am certain there are more of them around." Lucien glanced at the corpses with only faint disgust. Necromancers were rather sickening creatures. Death was something to be revered, not desecrated in such an artless manner as they employed. Sithis would most certainly be pleased with the deaths of those worthless fools. "Hopefully this will be a sufficient message."

Lisette remembered herself after this; she had come here for a reason. "Your Grace, forgive me, but I was asked to return a book…"

The Count froze her with an incredulous look, obviously torn between a bitter laugh and an angered demand. "A book? Raminus Polus sent you here for a _book_?" He compensated his dilemma with a deep sigh at the foolishness of it all. "How can Traven hope to defeat the Necromancers if his Council lies to his own subordinates?" Again, he glanced at Lisette pointedly. "Do you _really_ believe they sent you here for a _book_?"

"I've had no reason to distrust Master-Wizard Polus on this account." she answered honestly. Raminus was her superior; he had the right to send her on such errands.

"Then you are naïve." the Count noted plainly, as if sizing her up. According to the letter from the University he had found in the deceased Necromancer's office, she was one of the middle-ranked spellcasters, not nearly high up to be considered important and not nearly low enough to be labeled expendable. The perfect courier for such a fool's errand, he supposed. "There is no book. They sent you here to spy on me! They have heard the same rumors I have about the Necromancers. They are afraid that I have joined up with them because of my nature."

"I wouldn't believe that." Lisette countered immediately, actually surprised by her own guts. "The Guild might not be as strong a presence as we wish, but I know that Skingrad wouldn't benefit from turning to their side." Briefly, she glanced at the bodies again, but turned away quickly, as if the sight made her sick. Which it probably did; her face was nearly paler than the moonlight. She hoped to all the Nine that she wouldn't vomit in front of the Count of Skingrad. That would be the last nail to her coffin.

Hassildor raised his eyebrows slightly, apparently surprised to hear strategy from someone so demure in appearance. "Then perhaps you aren't entirely unwise. Necromancers are nothing but trouble. I have no love for your Guild, but I prefer it to those monsters." he said darkly. He had known about Mercator, but his associates were news to him. Perhaps the problem was more serious than he had even thought. "You may tell the Council that if they want to speak with me, they are to come themselves, not send someone under false pretenses."

Lisette bowed her head once more, nodding. "I will, your Grace."

The Count's eyes then rested on Lucien. The presence of a Dark Brotherhood assassin here was most suspicious, especially since the Conjurer was still alive and conscious. Perhaps she was the target? Or simply collateral damage? If this was a simple scouting mission for the assassin, he would have left without allowing himself to be noticed. Which meant that either the Necromancers had spotted him, which was downright impossible if he was indeed a student of Vicente or he had been forced to participate in the fight… to kill the mark; one of the Necromancers?

If so, there was still the matter of the mage, who wasn't panicking as much as she should at the sight of an assassin. Perhaps she didn't know…? No, she did. It was too obvious now. The logical conclusion then was that she had connections within the Brotherhood itself, like he himself did, in a way. Or acquaintances. Even in the presence of dead Necromancers and a vampire, the figure of a Dark Brotherhood assassin wouldn't be so easily overlooked.

"I would rather if the message was passed on by a live messenger." he said to Lucien, just to determine the situation. The mage couldn't be killed now, of all times.

The assassin gave a smile that said plainly that he had been expecting this question and that he understood that it wasn't kindness that made him ask that.

"I haven't come for her life… today." he noted, eyes glittering when they locked with those of the ever-paling mage. But the girl remained firm and seemed to understand that it was only mild provocation, not hostility.

There was nothing further to discuss, then. It was getting late and Hassildor preferred the walls of his castle unless times were severe. "Give my regards to Vicente."

"Naturally, your Grace." Lucien didn't bow his head again, simply continued watching the vampire with interest until the Count nodded curtly to Lisette, who didn't say a word.

It was strange to see a noble retreat to his own city on foot, but there was a first time for everything. That left the two of them alone again and once the silence became apparent, Lisette, seeing that her Restoration had worked, poured out all the emotions she felt through a series of rapid queries she didn't hope to get answers for.

"How did you find me here? Why are you here? Why did you save me?" After two such strange encounters and her continued existence, keeping all the questions inside was almost more than she could bear. Moreover, she still wondered why this had happened.

Of course, that won her no favors with the assassin, who glanced at her rather blankly.

"The battle has apparently drained you of any hint of subtlety." he noted, though her reaction wasn't entirely unpredictable. He himself wasn't often in the business of saving lives; he was surprising himself. "Can you not simply accept that you are alive partly thanks to my intervention?"

To a question, the only possible answer was a question in turn. "You won't answer any question I pose, will you?"

"Would you trust in the answers I could give?" Lucien asked flatly. After all, she had given him a partly-false answer once before and he was, in her eyes, the embodiment of all she considered evil, most likely. She had no reason to trust him apart from the fact that he had save her, which, considering his tight-lipped answers to her demands, likely didn't amount to much. However, Lucien preferred it this way.

Lisette, however, wasn't entirely certain of that. Obviously, there was something going on here, something she was likely better off not knowing about. "I don't know. I should get going nonetheless."

"The stables are over there." Lucien said, nodding in the general direction of the city gate. "Fetch a horse and we can set off."

"We?" For the second time, the mage posed that question, under similar circumstances.

Mages. They couldn't simply accept facts unless they came up with them themselves.

"It is in the interest of several people that you reach the Imperial City alive and in one piece." That was likely the most informative answer he could give to mollify the Breton and still not reveal his purpose, so Lucien settled for the compromise. "I hardly trust your colleagues and their teleportation."

"Why are you doing this?" Lisette asked after a moment of silence, studying his face carefully, calmly. She was still afraid of the nameless assassin, even though he wasn't out to kill her now. Or so he claimed. That even the Dark Brotherhood had an interest in Necromancers was understandable, but why did he save her, personally? Why him – she had supposed that he would hate her after what had transpired.

Or perhaps it was just business, in the end.

Lachance saw that this question was more serious than the frantic demands of before. The problem was, even if he was allowed to answer it, which he wasn't, he wouldn't be able to.

"The better question is: do you _want_ to know the answer?" he asked instead, giving the mage a pointed glance.

She remained silent, giving no reply, but her eyes were still somewhat wary, even as she did what he asked and went to fetch a horse from the stables.

By the time Lisette returned with a fresh horse on the journey, she was barely able to spot the black-clad figure of the assassin on an unsurprisingly black horse. However, the animal was anything but ordinary save for its color. Its eyes were red, gleaming, like those of the Dremora, and keen intelligence shone in them. Graceful and lithe, it would likely easily put even a prized stallion to shame in a race and even when stationary, it was a supremely impressive sight.

"I'm glad you approve." Lucien said, slightly dryly, but amused nonetheless. It wasn't easy to render Bretons speechless, from his experience, yet Shadowmere had effectively achieved that. He supposed it was only a natural reaction to such a unique animal, but that didn't make it any less entertaining.

For some reason, Lisette didn't dare approach the horse, as if it was royalty or at least nobility. It reminded her of a griffin she had seen in pictures at times, in some ways; it wouldn't surprise her if the horse was able to take flight. She had never seen an animal like it.

And, of course, if the sight of a Dark Brotherhood assassin alone wasn't impressive enough, the horse alone did more than enough to double the effect.

"I would be foolish not to." she countered as she half-clumsily mounted her own horse. She was proven right immediately; though her own steed was trying its best to catch up, it was running at full speed while the demonic-looking horse didn't even seem to be breaking a sweat while galloping at the same pace. "As much as I enjoy this race, would you please slow down?"

Gently, Lucien slowed the horse considerably until they were almost riding side-by-side. Of course, the horse rented in Skingrad was still looking as if its pride was the only thing making it press on. "My apologies, I am not used to riding with company."

"I can see that." Lisette exhaled, as if it was her who was running to catch up with the swift steed. She was silent for a moment, unsure what to say. Riding in silence with an assassin had to be worse than speaking to one, though. "Thank you… I suppose." she said uncertainly. "You did save my life, after all." she added upon receiving a curious glance.

"I would say that I was simply doing my job, but that would be somewhat of a paradox, wouldn't it?" Lucien asked, almost as if thinking out loud. They were many miles away from Skingrad now, but discussing Family business out loud openly anywhere wasn't a good idea.

The answer did nothing to improve Lisette's mood; she shivered slightly, concealing a shudder. She had many questions she wished to ask the assassin; why he saved her, how he had found her, why was he coming with her… it was an almost endless list, but she also remembered his countering question – would she trust any answer she would get? That wasn't entirely certain. After all, they didn't share the best history as far as their first encounter went, which was another reason to try a fresh start, so to speak.

"Is this a good time for introductions?"

Lucien glanced at her briefly with a raised eyebrow. "I know all I need to about you, Miss Lemieux." And he did; more than she knew. Enough to make a good report to Ungolim and consider her suited for a contact of the Brotherhood. She wasn't weak-willed, but she was young and impressionable. Easy to corner, if the right methods were used.

"You have me at a disadvantage there." Lisette admitted. Curiously, she did indeed want to know his name, if only to put her mind at ease. Giving a name to a memory was far better than simply allowing it to stay unidentified. Then, she gave her best imitation of the smug grin he had used on her during their previous encounter – which was to say, a weak one – and employed a little blackmail. "Unless you prefer inventive vernacular. Then we can come to an arrangement." she suggested weakly.

Lachance gave the smallest chuckle. The girl had obviously not told an insult in her life, so it would be entertaining to see what she would come up with. Nevertheless, there was no harm in telling her, he supposed; after all, unless he wished, she had absolutely no means of finding him again and it was likely that he would end up as her link to the Dark Brotherhood, should Ungolim choose to "recruit" her. Perhaps they were square now; she had gotten him out of the University and he had saved her life, she had tried to paralyze him and he had tried to strangle her.

Very well, then, a fresh start. After all, playing nice didn't necessarily equal being good.

"Lucien Lachance. Eliminator by rank." he said simply, which was more than she actually wanted to hear. The naïve would consider it a gift of good faith, probably, but it was simply a formality.

The mage raised her eyebrows momentarily. She had him picked out for an Imperial to the core. Either he had changed his name or he had Breton ancestors. "Lisette Lemieux. Conjurer of the Mages Guild." she added unnecessarily. He knew that, obviously.

"I prefer Blanche." Lucien noted, taking a turn to the right so that they would avoid the uncustomary Legion patrol that was heading their way with a torch. Shadowmere had no problems with the woodland terrain, though Lisette's horse was less nibble.

Lisette gave a small sigh. "Most people do."

They rode in silence through the night for the most part after that, switching from the roads to the wilderness from time to time. Eventually, Lisette managed to get a grip on her horse and started to be able to guide her even through the woodland terrain without her usual problems. Lucien was watching her from time to time, rather like a predator owl would watch a mouse move through its lair, waiting for it to make a mistake. He didn't help her much when she had problems, but that was motivation enough to make do on her own.

The crossroads began to split near Fort Nikel and Lucien brought his horse off the main road once more. This was the moment they had reached the large road circling the isle where the Imperial City lay. For Lisette, the journey would be brief from now on – the gates were close, along with the stables. Lucien didn't care to enter the city at this point; he had done his job and it was time to head back to Bravil or Cheydinhal, perhaps. The Speaker would be waiting for a report as well.

During the journey, Lisette had learned that the horse's name was Shadowmere, but little else. Nevertheless, her imagination was having a field day with all this new information. Also, somehow, her mind kept returning to Lucien's name. How many Dark Brotherhood assassins had she encountered by now? Three, was it? More? And there were ranks within the Brotherhood, it seemed. She would ask for more information, but she doubted Lachance would answer her questions.

"So is this the part when you kill me in some dark and twisted manner because I saw you?" she asked humorlessly.

She had already come to the easy conclusion that she was likely not meant to discover Lucien's presence, though she couldn't for the world figure out why an assassin would be watching over her only for that purpose. Something was going on, but she didn't have the courage to face the sneering answer she would no doubt receive.

Withheld information provided only frustration.

The Eliminator gave a smile that didn't quite reach his dark eyes. "You will have to wait for your kiss of death, I'm afraid." he said, with an almost theatrical drama, before nudging Shadowmere and riding off into the night. Apparently, the so-called kiss of death was something she would never get rid of.

Also, it appeared this wasn't the last she would see of him or similar people, which brought the Breton no comfort.


	9. Silver

This chapter is a meld of two plot ideas on my checklist for this particular fanfic, so yay for that! In any case, the Altmer featured here is meant to represent the OC I use in the game. She was too Sue-ish to make a main character for this fic and when Lisette was created, I liked her much better for the purposes of this fic. Anyway, if the other OC will be making another appearance, it will only be a cameo. Oh, and I suppose I did shove the "vampire" quest in Bruma out of the airlock as far as canon is concerned, but I certainly won't be changing it now. Consider it my little slip. By the way, thanks for the wonderful review, Daniel. Feel free to point out any mistakes in my English - it's my second, possibly third language, so any imperfections are mostly my little quirks - besides, I don't have a beta for my work, so I take full responsibility for the mistakes.

**o.O.o**

**Silver**

**o.O.o**

Raminus Polus was reading a book when Lisette returned to the University; sitting at his favorite spot in the lobby once more, early in the morning, while it was still peaceful – though he had his own office, he seemed to appreciate the majestic air the Arch-Mage's lobby offered. Once Lisette entered, he lowered his dusty tome with the usual smile, though his eyes were slightly less bright, as if expecting something.

Rightly so.

"Miss Lemieux." Credit had to be given to the fact that he got up How did your journey to Skingrad go?"

Lisette swung her bag off her shoulder and let it drop on the nearest chair. She had hoped for teleportation, not a journey on horseback with a Dark Brotherhood assassin riding with her. Still, it was likely the safest night journey she had ever had, so who was she to complain?

"The journey was fine, Master-Wizard. The meeting itself, less so." she noted, glancing at Raminus pointedly, waiting for him to reveal things properly.

"Was Count Hassildor not… agreeable?" But it was small talk and both of them knew it; the Imperial was trying to see just how much of the true purpose of the mission had been compromised. Lisette felt irked by this, simply because she believed she had a right to know what kind of mission she was being sent on.

"It was well within his rights not to be, I suppose." Sitting down on the chair next to the one her bag was occupying now, the Breton brushed a few stray hairs off her face before looking up at the Master-Wizard rather sternly. This wasn't what she was accustomed to when it came to the Steward; not at all. "He had not only discovered Necromancers within his own castle but that the Council of Mages had sent an associate under false pretenses to observe him."

"I see." Raminus straightened up in his seat, giving no impression of relaxing, though he did. It meant that things had gone according to plan, most likely. "Count Hassildor is a shrewd man, to say the least. I apologize for that inconvenience to you both, Miss Lemieux." he said, and it looked like he meant it as well. "I assure you that there are reasons for it."

"Forgive me, Master-Wizard, but I question their severity if they make a member of our guild expendable by default. The Necromancers in question lured me out into an ambush. Without…" Lisette caught herself before saying something that would inevitably lead to awkwardness. When she spoke with righteous indignation, she didn't put much thought into what she would say several sentences later, so she tried to get her thoughts straight. "Without the timely assistance of the Count, I would have likely died."

"Saved you, did he?" Finally, Raminus relaxed visibly, exhaling. This was obviously to his liking. That is very welcome news. I understand that you are now familiar with the Count's… unique disposition, correct?"

If vampirism was considered a unique disposition, then yes, she was, Lisette supposed. She couldn't think of anything else that was completely unique about Hassildor and this was certainly big news to anyone. " It was… surprising, but it answered some of my questions about the Count and his rule over the city."

"Janus Hassildor is in a unique position, to say the least." Raminus explained, perhaps in an attempt to regain Lisette's complete trust and faith, perhaps believing her to be ready for the explanation. "He has managed to keep his condition a secret from the public, but the Council of Mages isn't so easily deceived. We have a mutually beneficial contract – or have had. We weren't certain if it was still intact."

"So in return for keeping his nature a secret, he helps you gain information? Isn't that close to blackmail?" Lisette didn't believe the Council would resort to anything like that, but then again, she had seen enough improbable things in the course of the past year.

"It wouldn't be in anyone's interest to reveal Hassildor to the public eye. He is powerful and has ruled peacefully over Skingrad for quite some time." Raminus explained, though he neither confirmed nor denied the blackmail theory. "I'd say those are reasons enough for us to allow him further existence. However, as a vampire, the Count has few allies he can trust."

"But the Guild doesn't trust him." Lisette pointed out, scratching her knee while keeping her attention on Raminus all the same.

"Many of our own have joined the Necromancers – we simply couldn't be entirely certain." It was plausible; after all, vampires were undead as well and thus it wasn't that far-fetched if one didn't know the Count very well, which Lisette supposed few did. But if anything, Hassildor had seemed very firm in his decision-making. "I chose you for this task for a different reason, Miss Lemieux; so that you may prove to the Council and your peers that you are a loyal and worthy member of our guild." Raminus continued.

The Breton felt some blood return to her cheeks, making her seem healthier; it was her equivalent of a blush. "I didn't realize that you paid attention to student gossip, Master-Wizard… but thank you." She had expected something of the sort. Though it wasn't common from someone that high-up to pay attention to the reputation of a student, but then again, it was also true that not many students were involved in murder investigations. "I just don't like being made to lie to people."

Raminus understood, but if she had been aware of the lie, she would have never been able to tell it. "That is a more than reasonable concern. I apologize once more; it is unlikely to happen again. The Council has been delegating information strictly on a need to know basis. It was decided that it wasn't necessary for you to be told of the reasons for this distrust."

"I see." Lisette said, studying her shoes.

"In any case, you have succeeded in that endeavor." The Imperial stood up in a rather noble fashion; he was obviously glad to be able to administer this reward. "The Council wishes for you to know that your efforts are recognized and in light of recent events, I am promoting you to Magician."

In a flash, Lisette looked up, baffled. When she saw her teacher's face, she knew that she hadn't misheard. "Master-Wizard, I-I thank you." she stammered out, unable to say anything else. It was a bit too fast, all of it.

Magician was the sixth rank on the Mages Guild scale; those who had ascended to that level were among the more respected members, only two steps from becoming a full Wizard. For most, the path ended there; only the best of the best could reach the rank of Master-Wizard. And above that, there was only a single rank, open to only one person; the rank of Arch-Mage. Lisette had no hope of going that far and no ambition to try; becoming a Magician was like a dream come true on its own.

"You deserve it, Miss Lemieux." Raminus noted, smiling graciously upon seeing her almost child-like excitement. He meant it as well; after the resignation of half their Council once Arch-Mage Traven took over, capable mages fully devoted to the guild were becoming rare. And Lisette, with no strict political opinion about Cyrodiil and quiet devotion, was ideal material for the guild. The Imperial privately believed that in a few years, she would advance higher than this. "The numbers of the Guild are dwindling and we must recognize potential at an early stage. I feel you will prove to be a valuable member of the Arcane University in the future."

"I really don't know what to say, Master-Wizard." Lisette confessed, quietly jubilant. "It… well, I know I have been here for more than just a few days, but I certainly didn't expect advancement at this early stage."

"Progress will be slow from now on, I'm afraid." the Imperial warned her, but he seemed to be glad to see that she was taking it so well. "You must graduate before you can attain the rank of Wizard and there is still one rank in-between now and then. However, I believe you will manage it."

Lisette was practically beaming, even though she quickly jumped up and bowed respectfully to the Imperial. "Thank you very much for this honor, Master-Wizard. I will finally be able to continue my research more thoroughly, I hope."

"One final thing, Miss Lemieux. I understand you have lost an amulet during the skirmish a few weeks ago. Along with your promotion, please accept this, with our thanks." The Imperial produced a golden chain with an enchanted amulet decorated with twin emeralds. It was visibly enchanted, beautiful and not to mention likely expensive. On the other side, there was the faint engraving of the word "Spelldrinker". Raminus smiled fatherly when she looked up in astonishment and joy, truly like a child receiving a wonderful toy. "May it serve you well."

Lisette practically bounced out of the lobby, forgetting the world, forgetting the Dark Brotherhood, even, and racing to find her friends. Merete and Iver were sitting at their favorite spot on the University grounds, where Lisette never failed to find them. They were both dressed in full battlemage armor, along with the blue hoods signifying their specialization.

"Finally, you're back!" Merete was the first to spot her, but too lazy to get up just yet. Instead, she pulled Lisette down on the nearest spot on the grass to sit with them.

"Hey, guys." the Breton said brightly, dusting off her sleeve. It was good to be back home, hopefully permanently this time. "I see you have your new armor, Iver."

"Hi, Blanche!" the Nord said brightly; the two of them liked the nickname, particularly because it was one of the easy words of the High Rock language, at least when it came to pronunciation. "Yeah, Rohssan was great about it all. She even put the guild insignia on it, which was real nice of her."

"That's great."

"Speaking of new purchases," Merete leaned in, examining the Spelldrinker amulet, which she immediately spotted atop the blue of Lisette's robes. "I haven't seen these pretty baubles before. You had one from back home, but it was smaller."

Lisette grimaced slightly, remembering the necklace with guilt. She hadn't even gotten the chance to see if Lucien had it still – unlikely, but still a possibility – and if he could return it to her. It was a keepsake, a gift, after all. "My amulet got stolen during the… incident."

"Stolen?" Iver asked, a bit confused. His memory wasn't the sharpest, but he remembered this particular detail. "I thought it was the Dark Brotherhood, not the Thieves Guild."

"Yes it was, but the assassin tried to strangle me when I used a spell to subdue him. My amulet got ripped off then…" Lisette looked away somewhat shamefully. She had forgotten about it. What kind of friend was she to Erline and Bradon? "I haven't found it yet."

"Too bad about that." Iver said, patting her shoulder sympathetically. "I know you got it from your parents." That was how Lisette had told it to them; that was how she felt about it.

"But this…. it's more magic that any jewelry I've yet… oh, my." Merete let go of the amulet, glancing up at Lisette with wide and excited eyes. Iver simply looked from one to another, confused. "You mean to tell me you got another promotion?"

Lisette looked down, swallowing. "I'd rather not say anything."

"Promotion it is, then!" Merete cried, grinning widely. Nords weren't prone to envy, thank Akatosh, but getting a sharp pat on the back from one of them should be classified as physical assault. "Damn, what are you now, Magician, right? You're the same rank as Thalfin now!"

"I suppose, yes." the Breton said quietly, but happily as well.

"You look a bit flustered by that." the Nord girl gave a devilish grin. "Was the Count of Skingrad that good-looking and still unfortunately married?"

Lisette, whose thoughts were now straying from the Lirrians and their amulet to her second encounter with Lucien Lachance and back almost jumped, her eyes saucer-wide. "What? Merete, as if something like that could happen…"

"Aw, come on, Miss High and Mighty Magician!" Merete whined, prodding on, while Iver simply remained confused.

Lisette disclosed part of the details eventually, but she didn't really think getting into the details of her little trip were that necessary to recall. Instead, she tried her best to forget it (for the time being) and focus on the sun, the nice day and the friendly company.

**o.O.o**

A mere two hours later, Lucien Lachance, now dressed as a casual traveler rather than an assassin in shrouded armor in the colors of the night, arrived in Bravil and headed straight to Ungolim's house. From what he knew, the Listener would be there or in the vicinity, so it wasn't a problem to locate him. His observations of Lisette had been sufficient, in his opinion, to determine her worth.

As before, the stable staff outside of the city was rather bewildered to receive Shadowmere among their horses, even temporarily, awed and rather frightened by the magnificent steed. Lucien wasn't too bothered; unless mistreated, Shadowmere knew better than to lash out and usually, fear was enough to keep the daring in check. If not… well, the consequences would hardly be pretty for those who tried anything with the horse.

The little shack in Bravil was as poorly-furnished as before, nothing indicating that a highly-ranked member of the Dark Brotherhood lived there. It was still early in the morning when Lachance opened the door to the upstairs bedroom, but the Bosmer was already sitting there in an ancient-looking rocking chair, reading a book that was just as unremarkable and shabby-looking as everything around him.

"You have returned, Eliminator." Ungolim noted, nodding towards the nearest chair in the small room, which Lachance took without response or hesitation. "Has your observation yielded success?"

Lucien nodded respectfully. "I believe so, honored Brother."

"Very well, then." Lowering his book, Ungolim marked the page and glanced up at his subordinate. "Tell me what you think of this Miss Lisette Lemieux in terms of our purposes."

This was no trouble, as Lucien had already formulated the report in his mind. "She is not high up enough in the Mages Guild to be considered of any true importance, but apparently, the Steward of the Council of Mages, Raminus Polus, has taken note of her potential."

Ungolim raised an eyebrow. "How did you come to that conclusion?"

"She was sent on a mission to monitor the activities of Janus Hassildor, Count of Skingrad, though she wasn't told of the actual assignment."

"That implies a certain amount of trust or the change of being expendable." the Listener pointed out, frowning. "Neither is particularly useful in a potential contact."

"I believe she was given this task to overshadow her involvement in our operation at the University." Lucien suggested, privately believing the Bosmer's logic to be rather illogical. But who was he to decide just yet? "I expect they will promote her soon to prove her competence to the rest."

Ungolim nodded curtly. "Knowing the mages, that is possible. Very well, then; it seems you believe that Miss Lemieux can be useful to us. I will make certain she gets an offer from us as soon as possible."

Lucien understood that it was unlikely that he would be given the task of conveying the message to the Breton mage, which was unfortunate. Still…

"Honored Brother, if I might have one request." the Imperial began, a strangely mischievous glimmer passing through his dark eyes.

**o.O.o**

For an entire month, Lisette heard nothing about either the Necromancers or the Dark Brotherhood and was all the more content about it. As a Magician, her research was finally considered thoroughly serious and, what was most important, she could easily get to be first in line for using magical equipment, which was fabulous in itself. The mission to Skingrad wasn't mentioned to anyone but Merete and Iver, who both promised to keep their tongue behind their teeth. But her quick progress to Magician, which really couldn't be disguised, was noted by both her peers and her teachers.

Some chalked it up to the Council trying to cover up any negative involvement she might have had with the murder case. Others whined about favoritism from Master-Wizard Polus, but fortunately, she was too studious for anyone to attribute this to any involvement with one of her superiors. Besides, she certainly didn't look the part of a trophy bimbo, so all the better for her.

She was still working on the enchanted broom to aid with housework when Thalfin, her Bosmer fellow student from the Magician-rank courses at the University, opened the door to their common lab to find her.

"Lisette, you have a visitor waiting in the main lobby." Thalfin said curtly.

"Okay!"

Setting off one last enchantment, Lisette dusted off her robes and practically bounced off to the Arch-Mage's lobby, where visitors from outside the Academy usually gathered. University members referred to anyone not from the University as a visitor, though Lisette didn't stop to consider that this might not be such a neat thing in this case. She was by now confident that her family wouldn't come looking for her and if it was anyone of the Bruma guildhall, they would have been able to enter. The only other possible candidates were Bradon and Erline… but they didn't have quite enough money to make such a journey. She would have to come visit them as soon as she finished that self-maintaining broom and give Erline a free one.

She almost bumped into the door to the lobby because her mind was still with the magical broom she was developing. There were quite a few people in the lobby, most of them around or above her rank, chatting about experiments and reading, but every male eye occasionally darted to the single person who wasn't dressed in robes of any kind, the foreign element in the University, the one who was presumably the visitor Lisette had been told about.

Though Lisette was well-aware that being elven didn't necessarily imply beauty, her _visitor_ looked like a living embodiment of a youth's fantasies about elven warrior princesses. She was an Altmer, towering Lisette by margin of at least a head and a half, with a long, almost unnaturally immaculate ponytail of straight golden hair, sky blue eyes and deceptively youthful features. There was something highly eerie about the way she smiled when Lisette approached her and when she offered a gloved hand to shake.

"Good day, Miss Lemieux." she said pleasantly as Lisette accepted her hand uncertainly. The Breton had absolutely no idea who she was speaking to. "My name is Alastriona. I am pleased to meet you."

"Likewise, I'm certain." Lisette gave a nervous smile, taking in the sight of the mer and her enchanted light armor.

Finally, her eyes rested on the elf's gloved hand, which rested on the hilt of a longsword strapped to her belt. The gesture was meant to show both that the weapon wasn't going to be drawn and… the cause of the slight pressure Lisette had felt on her palm when she had accepted the hand.

A ring; an all too familiar black-stoned ring. Whatever smile Lisette had been attempting to show froze. She felt as if someone had grabbed her by the throat and pressed down on her windpipe. Calm. Peace. She was relatively certain that the woman wouldn't hesitate to kill her if she did something stupid; moreover, it wouldn't be necessary, because no one would believe her.

How would she even know such a thing, anyway? Panicking would only make inconvenient questions appear.

Checkmate.

Lisette swallowed, almost choked and cleared her throat in a matter of seconds. "Would you care to…talk in private?" she added politely, watching the elf cautiously.

The assassin gave her a brilliant smile before nodding and getting ready to follow her. "That would be wonderful."

Lisette led the way to her own room, feeling the eyes upon her every inch of the way. That was the only chamber in the entire complex of the University she could deem completely secure for this kind of conversation. She bolted the door behind the Altmer once she entered, glancing around with mild interest. It wasn't common practice to have guests coming to the interior of the University and most people who didn't belong to the guild never saw any of the actual rooms. Surprisingly, the assassin didn't sit down; like a sentinel, she remained standing at the door and watched Lisette drop whatever weak mask of casual behavior she had put on.

"What do you want from me?"

At another time, she might have been proud of how steady her voice remained throughout the question. The armor and perfectly polished blade gave the elf the appearance of a knight, which was likely why she was admitted into the University with such ease. Their real purpose, disguise and likely remind Lisette what she was dealing with, were left unnoticed by the others.

"Why are you here?"

"Blunt and to the point." the Altmer said with an appraising nod, though her smile had mellowed out somewhat now that it wasn't entirely necessary. "A good combination, but I pray for your own sake that you have more subtlety than that. Obviously I need not make any introduction as to who I represent."

"I have had the chance to meet some of your associates, yes." Lisette said carefully, remembering those various moments. But never had a Dark Brotherhood… Sister, was it? Never had a member simply come to call on her for a visit such as this. It was a daring move and a frightening one as well. "Now please give me a single reason why I shouldn't expose you the moment we step out of this room."

As Speaker of the Black Hand, Alastriona had heard much better and more believable threats in her lifetime.

"You have already given that reason to yourself; because it would put your own loyalties into question." she explained with unnerving patience and calm. "Besides, I haven't come to harm you, Miss Lemieux, or anyone at the University. Today is a purely social visit."

Lisette's eyebrows rose; the Dark Brotherhood never did social visits. Only… _business_ visits. "Somehow I have trouble believing that."

"Then I will tell you a small story that will prove this to you." Alastriona obviously took the mage's silence as a confirmation that she might continue. She obviously had no problem with playing the bard, even though this time, she wasn't giving the usual initiation speech to a new recruit. "You are familiar with the Bosmer merchant Gradilmos that makes a monthly supply run to the Arcane University with stocks from Valenwood? It appears that the market can indeed be competitive for someone to care so much for his removal from position…"

"What does your business have to do with me?" Lisette asked slowly, her mind coming to several possible conclusions, none too pleasant. She also realized that in public, the mer looked much less dangerous, which was likely little more than a perfected act. She had no doubt that she was facing a seasoned member of the assassin's guild, likely one of those handling recruitment.

"Miss Lemieux, I will be frank." True to that, any traces of a lenient smile vanished from the elf's face in favor of a truly business-like expression. "The only reason I am speaking to you is because you have unknowingly managed to catch the eye of several of my associates. The only reason you are alive to listen to me now is because of your status as a mage of certain capability and your place at the Arcane University."

Lisette could only gawp at her. She wanted to say several things, one of them being that if she had her way, they wouldn't be speaking at all, but didn't think that was a good idea.

"What do you want from me?" she asked instead, forcing firmness into her tone.

"Your abilities and your resources." the Altmer said calmly, as if she didn't have a care in the wo. Lisette supposed that unless this woman wanted to reveal her allegiances, no one would ever suspect her of being what she truly was. "We are always on the lookout for talented people."

"I don't have the kind of talent you want." Lisette said immediately, though she realized this was an offer of a different kind.

The Bosmer was going to die; that was what this woman was telling her. And there could be only one reason why she was being told this: blackmail. It would probably be very easy for them to make it seem as if she did it. And if not the Bosmer, then it would be someone else, someone nearby, somewhere she could be implicated.

As the experts in murder, they could implicate her without the slightest effort.

Alastriona shrugged gracefully, as if to say that didn't really matter.

"You have eyes too keen for your own good. Be certain that it would be no problem at all for us to arrange things to make it seem that you killed Gradilmos with your very hands and have you sent to the Imperial Prison for the rest of your lifetime." she noted, taking note of the fact that the mage paled. Her theory got confirmed by that. "Besides, I am not asking anything involving our profession of you. Simply think of this as a civilized trade; your life and freedom for your services as a mage and healer."

"I'm quite certain you have enough qualified people in both fields of knowledge." Lisette objected weakly. The news of what was happening was just sinking in. So this was why that man, Lachance, had saved her life. It was a process of evaluation – whether she was useful to them or not.

"You are both correct and mistaken. We are hardly ever in the field of Restoration." Alastriona explained patiently. There were very few healers among them, though accidents were plentiful among the new and even among the skilled. Scrapes and burns weren't uncommon, but lax and inattentive Family members got worse injuries at times. "And you, as a member of the Arcane University, have access to resources usually denied to us. We could access them, of course, but it would require more… effort on our part. How fortunate that you came along. Of course, do not think you will gain nothing of this. If you prove your trustworthiness, you can expect to enjoy life of security."

To Lisette, it was as if a gigantic black hand was closing in around her, every finger blocking her path. "The life of a well-placed pawn, you mean." This wasn't an offer of life in privilege; it was the offer of a life of crime, where she would be expendable.

"There isn't any need to phrase it that harshly. Consider it an investment in your future." the Altmer noted supportively. The girl didn't seem fast, but if she was at least bright enough to understand the implications of her position, she would understand that any betrayal would be punished by a similar setup. No one would believe that she hadn't done the deed if the Brotherhood worked properly. "Do you need time to consider your decision?" she asked in a finalizing matter.

"You know you wouldn't get away with killing me." the Breton countered weakly, but she didn't have any real faith in those words. "Not here, in the heart of the University."

The Altmer almost sighed, giving a slight smile once more. "Miss Lemieux, who said anything about killing you right here and now? As an alchemist, you should know that accidents do tend to happen in the laboratory. And who said anything about killing you at all?" Assuming it was physically possible, the little Breton became whiter than the wall behind her. "Your decision?"

"I…I…" Lisette hung her head, glancing at the ground. "I accept." she said quietly, unable to meet the assassin's eyes. This wasn't right; this was an absolute mess and she wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor and never, ever surface from it.

Though Lisette didn't see it, she received a brilliant smile from the Speaker.

"I was told you were an intelligent young woman. This ring is for you; a sign of our protection." She handed the Breton an object she was already familiar with; a golden band with a gleaming black stone and, upon closer examination, the small engraving _nox et solitudo_ on it. "You may take it off if you wish, but keep it close. Any Family member will know the signet when you show it." Alastriona instructed, "You need not worry about compromising your status at the University; your contacts will address you as Cousin Blanche, which I understand is a name you go by in private, as you are now a rather unique part of our Family."

"I understand." Lisette said, slipping the band onto her right ring finger. It felt like a manacle and chain binding her to something filled with darkness and despair. Not inexplicable, considering her new "employer".

"And Miss Lemieux?" Looking up, Lisette saw that Alastriona was already at the door. Apparently, no written agreement signed in blood was necessary for this. The ring was a sufficient pledge. "I was told to pass on a message from Lucien Lachance." Lisette blinked; she had momentarily forgotten all about Lucien. But why the Eliminator (assuming she remembered the rank correctly) would want to contact her once his report on her was finished was beyond her. "He wishes you to know that if someone ever issues a contract involving you, he will do his best to gain it. He said you would understand." the elf noted, obviously slightly irked by not understanding herself.

Lisette did. But the jest about a kiss of death sounded more like mocking laughter to her now. By the time she looked up to say something, nothing even indicated that someone else had ever been in the room.


	10. Vanilla

Major plot advancement, here we come!

**o.O.o**

**Vanilla**

**o.O.o**

If people began saying that Lisette became much more serious in the months after being promoted to Magician, they wouldn't be that far off.

The name Lisette Lemieux began to be associated with serious research and hard, driven work, but also with a quiet and closed-off personality. She spent her days in a research lab, working on project after project and advancing her studies. But she was dedicated to her job and so, as long as her work was exceptional, no one was too bothered by her nature; her closest friends didn't have the time to ponder this sudden acceleration of her yearning for knowledge, mostly because with their own exams coming, they hardly had time to worry about themselves.

Still, Merete never ceased with her attempts to get the Breton to balance some fun along with her tasks. The Nord understood why Lisette worked so hard; she likely felt the need to justify her rapid promotions with working more and more. It was decidedly unhealthy.

Aside from that, the Breton seemed to be trying to be more organized than she usually was nowadays, as if she were constantly taking inventory of potion ingredients.

The Magician actually found that that was the easier part.

Being a contact for the Dark Brotherhood was not nearly as draining or dangerous as Lisette had thought. It involved no blood or gore, just the occasional meeting with a courier or two while she went to fish out the information they needed from one of the many books in the vast arcane library the University had at its disposal. At times, she was asked to get them a small amount of a certain rare ingredient, but it was never anything that couldn't be explained by a few well-chosen words.

And there was no danger involved, or so she was always assured by the couriers, who never wore clothing that could be even remotely considered assassin-like. In truth, if she didn't know who they were, she would have considered them traveling salesmen or something equally respectable. Certainly nothing even close to what they truly were.

But, all in all, Lisette wasn't that disappointed with how life was turning up. She was tense every day when she woke, but then, as she returned to her research, she relaxed and became more at ease with herself… until the next courier or the next morning came.

"Magician Lemieux?"

Lisette looked up from her work. She had finally finished the magical broom some weeks ago, but her workload and the fact that the Dark Brotherhood usually came calling at least once a week for various reasons made her unable to leave the University for a longer period of time without announcing her decision beforehand. And even then, she had to have a good reason for leaving.

A Khajiit student came to fetch her all the way to her laboratory, which was saying something. She usually asked to be left undisturbed by the others until she left the locked room on her own. The younger students had a kind of wary respect of her, partly because of her rapid advancement and academic reputation, partly because of her status as Raminus Polus' protégé and Tar-Meena's junior assistant at the Mystic Archives.

"Yes, Journeyman?" she asked politely.

"Master-Wizard Polus requests to see you. At the Council chamber." the Khajiit clarified, meaning that this was an urgent summons. He glanced at the apparatus Lisette was enchanting with some curiosity, but then looked back at the Breton, waiting for a response.

"Thank you."

With a final flick of her fingers, Lisette allowed the enchantment to disperse and she let loose the messy bun her hair was in, combing through it with her hand. The sunny weather in Cyrodiil had burned out some of the ashy color of her hair, making it seem slightly fairer; she preferred this, allowing it to grow freely. It reached past her shoulder blades now and if Lisette was one to put effort into maintaining her appearance, she could have been called more than presentable now. She neither noticed nor bothered.

The chambers of the Council were on the second highest floor of the Arch-Mage's tower; only higher ranks (meaning Magician and above) had access to these higher floors through teleportation; there were no doors allowing access. The Council, or most of it, was already waiting for her when she arrived, her hair combed and her robes as clean as they could get.

After Arch-Mage Traven's appointment, half of the Council of Mages had resigned – such was common knowledge. Currently, the working body of the Council consisted of five members, that being Raminus Polus, Irlav Jarol, Caranya, the Arch-Mage himself, meaning Hannibal Traven and, last of all, High Chancellor Ocato, who rarely had time to attend it nowadays with all the duties his function involved and thus attended only when absolutely necessary. Last of all was Tar-Meena, who was continually being pushed into accepting a seat on the Council, but the Argonian Master-Wizard much preferred her research at the Mystic Archives to bureaucracy.

"Magician Lemieux, good to see you." Arch-Mage Traven greeted her. The elderly Breton had spoken to her only once or twice before, never more than a few words, so Lisette considered herself honored that he even remembered her name. Of course, he had to, as she was evidently the only one who had been called to this audience. "The Council has chosen you for a task based on your capability."

"I am honored, Arch-Mage." Lisette said, bowing her head. The Arch-Mage, giving her a task, commending her capability! That was almost reward enough for all her efforts.

"We're certain of that." Caranya noted, taking over. For some reason, Lisette wasn't overly fond of the only official female Council member. She respected Altmer, simply because their age and wisdom, but there was something condescending about the Councilor**. **It wasn't just the typical High Elf pride; the woman simply viewed everyone from above, as if that was simply natural. "You have surely heard the rumors regarding the Necromancers. They are taking action against us and we have decided that it is time for us to act as well."

"We have managed to locate several black soul gems in possession of a former guildhall leader, Falcar." Irlav Jarol added. It was uncommon to see him at the University nowadays as well; he was always involved with the Vahtacen project, an excavation that had yet to yield results. Lisette had been helping Tar-Meena with trying to crack the Ayleid inscriptions on the walls that they received transcriptions of a few days ago, so far without success. "We would like you, as a researcher, to investigate what the Necromancers are using these gems for."

"Of course, Councilor." Lisette said immediately with a respectful bow. She understood herself to be dismissed, thus she left the Council chambers at once.

She headed back to the Mystic Archives at once, where Tar-Meena was going through a stack of books. Lisette found that she liked the Argonian very much as a researcher; in a way, she was her idol, what she would like to become one day. She had extensive knowledge on various subjects and managed to run the large library with admirable organization skills. That Tar-Meena sometimes called her the best disciple she had once was a high compliment from the usually busy Master-Wizard.

"I'm busy here, Lisette, do you need something?" the Argonian noted when the Magician approached her, obviously waiting for permission to speak. The good thing about Lisette was that she knew better than to interrupt a person that was reading something important.

"The Council wants me to research black soul gems." Lisette said curtly, summing up things in as few words as possible. The Argonian glanced up, her lizard-like eyes rather irritated by this news.

"Necromancy again?" The Council had been unconcerned with those practices for so many years and now it seemed as if a giant dam had broken down and all the water it had been holding rushed down into a very small space. "I have my hands full with this at the moment; look into it yourself, please. There was this book, Necromancer's Moon, try that if you can find it. Falcar had it borrowed once, if that helps."

Lisette nodded. "It does, thank you."

It took a painstaking search, but she eventually located the desired book. The Mystic Archives were gigantic, filled with ancient tomes that were invaluable, but most books about Necromancy were either banned or carefully stored away from the reach of the younger associates. However, the book titled Necromancer's Moon had obviously been picked out by someone and stuffed rather clumsily onto a shelf where it didn't really belong.

The tome was rather thick, filled with various rituals that Lisette neither understood nor considered relevant. She was searching for something that would be related to the black soul gems that she had been tasked with locating. She spent an hour in the Mystic Archives, digging through the text of the book. Most of it was what she would gently call mystical nonsense; Lisette was against Necromancy, even though she had a talent in Conjuration. But when she summoned creatures, they were usually Daedra, not skeletons, zombies or liches as Necromancers most certainly preferred.

Finally, she located something that looked promising.

"_The Revenant, the Necromancer's Moon, watches over us all. His Form, ascended to Godhood, has taken its rightful place in the sky, and hides the enemy Arkay from us so that we may serve Him. Watch for the signs: when the heavenly light descends from above, hasten to His altars and make your offering, so that He may bless you with but a taste of His true power. Grand Soul Gems offered to Him will be darkened, and can be used to trap the souls of the unwitting; a feat even the great N'Gasta would marvel at."_

Well, the offering was certainly correct. Altars and everything seemed to involve a ritual, which explained the significance of the black soul gems. Heavenly lights, then. From the way the author was describing this, Lisette supposed that it was likely some celestial event which occurred only at specific places.

That didn't complete her job, however; the Council wouldn't be glad if she presented them with a half-finished report. There was only one expert on celestial events and astronomy at the Arcane University whose opinions she trusted entirely, so Lisette quickly copied the page from the book on a piece of parchment and went to find Bothiel, who was tending to the Imperial Orrery, as usual. The Bosmer was a rather stern and distant presence at the University, though that was mainly due to the nature of her expertise.

"Excuse me, Wizard." Lisette said upon locating the Bosmer. She addressed the instructor formally, because she didn't really have too many interactions with her most of the time. "I wanted to ask you about a task I got from the Council."

"Of course, Magician." Bothiel nodded, looking away from her work. She could spare a few moments. "What may I help you with?"

"I've been tracking possible rituals involving black soul gems and came across a section in a book about Necromancy mentioning something called the Shade of Revenant." she explained, handing the note to the Bosmer. The Wizard studied the copied page with general interest. "I think it might be a celestial event, but you are the expert on that, so I hoped to consult you."

"I see." Bothiel frowned, scouring her memory. She had heard of something this before. "Well, I don't really know much about Necromancer rituals, but… I seem to remember Falcar researching something similar before he left."

This sparked Lisette's immediate interest. "Indeed?"

"Yes. Please wait; I think he left some notes behind."

While the Bosmer went to search her desk, Lisette briefly recalled the whole affair surrounding Falcar. Apparently, the Altmer head of the Cheydinhal guildhall had gone rogue and joined the Necromancers, but not before indirectly causing the death of one of his potential associates. It had been a great scandal in the Guild.

"Here you go." Bothiel said once she returned, handing the Breton a handwritten note, like the one she had received. Lisette read through the note and took back her own as well, smiling brightly.

"Thank you very much." she said immediately, heading straight for the Council chambers.

She didn't hope to meet all the Councilors there, but, to her surprise, they were all present, save for the Arch-Mage himself. Upon her unannounced arrival, Caranya raised an eyebrow, but when Lisette explained that she had made progress within a single day after being assigned the task, she got their immediate attention.

The Breton presented her findings to the Council, supporting her theory with Falcar's note, which cited four possible locations for the Necromancer rituals: The Dark Fissure, Fort Istirius, Fort Linchal and Wendelbek; all remote locations, caves and ruins where no one was likely to search for the Necromancers.

Needless to say, the Council was deeply impressed by her findings and Raminus went as far as to summon Arch-Mage Traven himself, who happened to be in his quarters, to have a look at this.

"You have made much progress, Magician." Caranya noted, giving the young Breton an appraising glance as Raminus Polus summarized the crux of things to the newly arrived Traven. It was an odd, calculative glance.

Lisette bowed her head respectfully nevertheless. "Thank you, Councilor."

"It seems to me that out of all these, Dark Fissure seems the most probable location." Raminus noted, continuing his explanations. He knew the most details about all this and the betrayal of Falcar. "It is closest to Cheydinhal, where Falcar was based prior to his defection."

Traven nodded, apparently sharing the same train of thought. "That makes sense. We should send a contingent of battlemages to investigate…"

"Oh, no, no, no." the Altmer interjected before Traven could finish his thought. "A mission such as this requires a deft touch. And we have already delegated the task, haven't we?" She looked at Lisette as she said this and somehow, that look felt like a punch into the stomach to the Breton. Blood rushed from her face once more, leaving her pale.

Send her to investigate Necromancers? Apparently, Irlav Jarol shared that doubtful opinion.

"Caranya, that is madness!" he interjected at once, glancing at the Altmer as if she had lost her mind. This was a task for a group of skilled fighters or stealth specialists, not someone like her. "She is a researcher; she has had only the basic training in Destruction!"

"All the better, then; she can improve on the spot, isn't that right, Miss Lemieux?" Caranya asked, her smile proud, though why, no one could guess.

Master-Wizard Jarol still looked convinced that this was utterly ludicrous. "But those caves will be crawling with Necromancers; to send a single…"

"Irlav. Please."

It was Hannibal Traven who interjected, glancing right at the pale Magician, who was waiting for the verdict. It was a difficult call to make, but the Arch-Mage knew that even Caranya had a certain logic to back up her argument. Besides, the task had been delegated, as she said.

"Miss Lemieux, the task is yours. Feel free to request assistance from any member of the University." he added soothingly upon seeing the girl pale visibly at the prospect of such a task.

But if she managed field work along with research…Traven was looking for someone like that. He decided to see how events would unfold this time. Lisette bowed and thanked the Council, but she privately felt as if she had just been scheduled for execution.

Investigating a cave filled with Necromancers? Her? She gave a small, bitter laugh. Her Destruction spells were solid now and if she summoned a Dremora or two to back her up, she could likely handle a few Necromancers… but a legion of them? It was audacious to believe she could manage something like that.

She needed a miracle. Or… a helping hand…

Lisette considered the idea. Perhaps it was too impertinent, but she decided to try her luck nonetheless. After all, she had been a great help to the Dark Brotherhood thus far and they said she was family… so perhaps she could ask. It was a last resort, yes, but she felt inclined to try it. Lisette Lemieux might not be able to manage such a task, but Blanche had different connections and resources.

The next Dark Brotherhood courier came two days afterwards, just as she was beginning to think that this was a bad idea. It was an Argonian called Swift-Flyer, who completely lived up to his name, one of the couriers that were her regular visitors. His stealth capabilities were amazing; usually, Lisette didn't even hear him before he was two feet away from her and even then she suspected that it was only because he willed it to be so. The Brotherhood didn't want it to seem that she had too many visitors too often, so at times, their members just sneaked in.

"That will be all, Miss Blanche." Swift-Flyer noted when she finished her report and handed him the batch of Void Salts that someone apparently couldn't get. Though it had been only a few months, Lisette had a good eye and so she saw the moment when the Argonian was preparing to say his farewells before vanishing into thin air.

"Wait a moment." she said before he could speak. Swallowing her doubt and dread, she decided to risk it. "Could you… could you take a letter for me?"

The Argonian seemed to raise his eyebrows momentarily, but then thought better of it. "Certainly. To whom will it be?" He was being almost too helpful; then again, his was the first time she had ever asked anything of him.

"I don't really know."

Lisette wasn't really comfortable admitting that, but there wasn't any way around it. She knew only two members of the Dark Brotherhood by name – Lucien and Alastriona – and she somehow doubted that either of them would come running at the news that she needed help. Actually, she didn't expect anyone to come running.

"I would like to request help with something. I have been given the task of determining what rituals Necromancers have at The Dark Fissure at the so-called Shade of Revenant, but I… I don't think I can pull this off. It requires investigation and there will be many Necromancers there…"

Swift-Flyer raised his hand to stop her before the Breton could break down under the burden and strain. "Say no more, Miss Blanche." He always called her Miss Blanche, not Cousin, just in case someone overheard. It would be hard for them to explain just from what part of the family tree they were. "The request will reach the appropriate people."

"You surprise me." Lisette said honestly. "I didn't really think… well, I didn't suppose you would help me."

"You are a friend of the Family, Miss Blanche. We are helping ourselves as well. Walk always." Swift-Flyer noted before giving her a slight respectful nod and vanishing almost into thin air.

And so Lisette waited; she knew better than to take action without heeding the consequences. After all, Swift-Flyer seemed honest enough, but she was a little nervous when the next courier turned out to be a Dunmer who didn't know anything about the request. Lisette had gathered that the Brotherhood was likely organized into groups that were overseen by their leaders, who she learned were the so-called Black Hand; four Speakers and one Listener. More hadn't been revealed to her yet.

When the wait took a week, Lisette became nervous. She didn't know what to think or do other than avoiding Caranya, who seemed certain that this task was beyond her capability. However, once the full week passed, Lisette found a package on her doorstep after work. Within it were shreds of robes with the skull insignia of the Necromancers, several black soul gems and a detailed note explaining the ritual to her. Below all these things was a small note on a very pristine sheet of parchment:

_To our Dearest Cousin Blanche, we send souvenirs from the lovely Valus Mountains and our thanks for an amusing diversion. For your convenience, we have removed the more naturalistic proof of success. If you wish to see that, you must come visit us. Walk always._

There was no signature, but then again, there was no need for it; Lisette knew with absolute certainty where the package had come from, even though she couldn't tell who she was to visit. She was thankful for the removal of the… naturalistic evidence. Her imagination was wild enough without having to envision the bodies of the Necromancers being sent to her by courier.

At the soonest opportunity, she showed this to Raminus, who summoned the entire Council sans Ocato to allow her to display her results. Fortunately, they were too glad at seeing her success to speculate about how she had acquired the evidence; it sufficed to them that she said she had had help with the task.

"Excellent work, Miss Lemieux. We will be watching your work with great interest." Hannibal Traven noted when he returned the evidence to the package. The only thing that Lisette kept for her own and didn't show anyone was the note from the Dark Brotherhood, naturally.

"You have an eye for talent, Caranya."

The Altmer didn't appreciate Irlav's comment, obviously, even as Lisette made her exit. "Indeed."

**o.O.o**

Lisette was beginning to realize that her "alliance" (for lack of a better word) with the Dark Brotherhood wasn't entirely negative. It added excitement to her life; unnecessary excitement, yes, but excitement nonetheless. Also, she was beginning to see the fringe benefits. It was a "you help us, we help you" policy. After all, it was in their best interest that she advance in rank and succeed in her career.

She found a certain peace in that knowledge, oddly enough, even though she still had dreams about the assassins, mostly Lucien, she could confess without shame. An assassin who had saved her life after stealing her necklace. It made her wonder if it was possible to send him a message as well, demanding that he return it.

In celebration of her triumph, Merete insisted on dragging her out to the Feed Bag for a celebration that involved only one glass of wine, in the Magician's case. However, throughout the entire night, she could feel someone watching her; the somewhat tipsy Merete noticed as well and immediately tried to nudge Lisette towards the tall Altmer dressed in refined blue clothing, whose gaze was leagues away from the platonic level. It made Lisette somewhat uncomfortable, being surveyed like an object and she told Merete so.

"Aw, come on, Miss Priss!" the Nord whined. If it were her, she wouldn't hesitate a moment. "Just go talk to him, how would that hurt?"

"We should go back to the University, Merete." Lisette noted, glancing at the already unconscious Iver. They would have to use a Feather spell on him to get him back. "Or maybe you two will have to stay here for the night." she amended, seeing that the Nord girl's face was red and flushed.

"S'okay, Blanche…" Merete slurred slightly. "I'll pay for a room for us. B'you should really talk to that guy! Methinks he really likes you…!" She hiccupped slightly and winked. "Y'know what they say about High Elves."

She didn't even have the energy to make a lewd joke, which meant that she was thoroughly wasted now. "Take it easy, Merete. I'll come back and see you with a healing potion in the morning, okay?" Lisette asked with concern.

"Kay, see ya!" the Nord waved as Lisette paid the barkeep a little extra to have the two Nords delivered to a room. The two Dunmer who ran the bar were obviously well-experienced with such things, despite sighing as they bid Lisette good night.

Ever since Lisette had become involved with the Dark Brotherhood, she had become somewhat less afraid of the dark. The presence of the Legion in the Imperial City always helped, too. However, there were still many things she wasn't prepared for.

"Good evening, Miss."

Like, say, attractive Altmer appearing out of nowhere next to her.

Lisette jumped slightly before seeing even in the faint torchlight that the man who had addressed her was the very same Altmer who had been watching her in the bar. Tall as any High Elf with a slightly elaborate hairstyle, the mer was dressed in expensive clothes and the charming smile which he gave Lisette was only the tiniest bit shark-like. The Breton didn't really notice it at first.

"Good evening, sir." she said politely, as was custom. "I'm sorry, but I should get going back to the Arcane University."

"Surely you wouldn't deny me the chance to converse with you for a moment or two?" the Altmer asked imploringly, looking slightly forlorn. "After all, you have been ignoring me the entire evening in favor of your friends. Rather cruel of you, if I may say so."

Lisette gave a slightly puzzled and flattered expression. She believed she knew where this was going. "Pray excuse me, sir, but I hardly even know who you are. I don't make a habit of fraternizing with strangers."

"Then allow me to introduce myself and we shall be strangers no longer. My name is Seridur and yours, milady, is Dibella." It was such a saccharine line, yet there was a strange heartbreaking sincerity about how he said it, as if he really believed it.

The Breton smiled a little, nervous yet a little flattered against her better judgment. Something in her decided against revealing her actual name, given the fact that he had likely overheard Merete using her nickname.

"It shares only a few letters with that name, unfortunately. It is Blanche."

"White in the language of High Rock. Only an epithet that doesn't scratch the surface." Seridur said gallantly; Lisette didn't even notice the moment when he had taken her hand and when she had allowed it. it struck her suddenly that her feet seemed to be moving on their own accord and that the Altmer was leading her in the direction of the Elven Gardens District, which wasn't where she wanted to go.

"I… should go…" But then, the thought faded away like morning mist and they were standing near a well in the Elven Gardens District, the Altmer smiling at her with distinct fondness that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"What you should do has nothing to do with what you want to do." he noted softly, running a hand down her cheek. Lisette realized only then how cold it felt, strangely cold…

Deathly cold.

Suddenly, there were arms around her and she wanted to move, but couldn't. It was as if she was beating against the glass that kept her away from controlling her own body, watching things from the outside. Cold lips caressed her pale throat with kisses and Lisette felt something knife-like brush against her skin. Paralysis, deathly cold, charm… by then, it was useless to struggle against the vampire who had her in his grip.

Lisette braced herself for the inevitable with a rush of fear… but instead of the pressure on her neck, Seridur gave a sharp gasp and Lisette felt the paralysis lift. She stumbled back, only to see the Altmer's heart pierced with a knife that so resembled the Blade of Woe she still had hidden in her robes at all times, it might as well have been the same weapon. The Altmer became almost corpse-like before the dagger was sharply removed and the very same hand slit his throat. In moments, all that was left was dust and a deadly-looking Argonian standing behind it.

For the first time, Lisette could fully understand that Swift-Flyer was an actual assassin, not just a messenger.

"Miss Blanche! Are you all right?" the Argonian asked, sheathing his dagger and moving to her to inspect her wounds.

Lisette stared at the ashes of the vampire in shock. She was pale and shivering, as if cold water had been poured all over her skin.

"I-I… yes. Yes, I am. Thank you." she said quickly, meaning it from the bottom of her heart.

Swift-Flyer remained calm and determined. "It is my duty to protect you." he noted simply, dismissing her babbling. "You are fortunate to have been sighted before he got you." the Argonian viewed the ashes of the vampire with distaste, even though Lisette became the alchemist again and decided to employ the rule "waste not, want not" by sweeping the ashes into a pouch and storing them for future potions. It was a routine reaction to being shaken so badly, automatic. "I have a letter for you, from Lucien Lachance."

At the mention of the name, Lisette shook again, fear keeping away possible logic and rationale – the things that would definitely tell her that it couldn't be a good thing. The adrenaline was still in her blood when she opened the sealed envelope on the spot and read through the elegantly written script.

_Dearest Cousin,_

_You have been an incredible addition to our family in the recent months. However, the Brotherhood has need of your skills in the arcane arts this time. Turnabout is only fair play, isn't it? We helped you with your task, now it is your turn to come to our aid._

_ You will travel to the city of Cheydinhal, to the east of the province of Cyrodiil. Take the Blue Road straight into the city; once you arrive, go to the Cheydinhal Bridge Inn and wait for a messenger to arrive for you. Our eyes will be watching you from the moment you enter the city; have no fear of anyone or anything, for you are under our protection._

_Pray make haste, Cousin, for our need is great and your chance to prove yourself greater still._

_Walk always in the shadow of Sithis._

_L.L._


	11. Crypt

Viva la Sanctuary, people! This will likely be the last chapter before I leave for London for three weeks on Sunday, but I'll be taking my notebook with me, so I might be able to start a new chapter there. Read and review, please! And thanks to everyone who already did and liked Lisette and the story thus far! I consider her my least Sue-ish character ever, which is saying something.

**o.O.o**

**Crypt**

**o.O.o**

Cheydinhal was possibly the most beautiful town Lisette had yet seen.

Contrary to the stone of the Imperial City, the picturesque cottages with their mahogany-colored wood made it seem like a town out of a fairytale. It was the height of spring, with summer at their doorstep, almost; things were looking up for everyone in such wonderful weather. It was easy to ask leave from the University for personal reasons; after her "spectacular" performance with her recent task, Raminus assured her that everything would run as smoothly as clockwork until she returned. Her experiments for the year were mostly finished – the University offered accommodation for mages throughout the year, not restricted by dates, so she was free to return at any given time. Merete envied that, but she could understand it. Iver hugged her tightly before she left, which impeded her movement for an hour or so, but it was an oddly pleasant parting.

The University even gave her a financial bonus to deal with the price of purchasing a horse for both journeys and she had more than enough money to be able to afford the best inn in town. In short, it was good to be Lisette Lemieux. However, the Magician understood that from the moment she handed her horse over to the stable staff, she was no longer Lisette Lemieux; she was Blanche and that was how she would be addressed by whoever would pick her up at the inn.

She wore the Black Band on her hand that day – usually, she kept it concealed, because it was a somewhat massive ring that was bound to attract attention. If any further proof was needed, she had the Blade of Woe, something about which none of her assassin contacts knew. Her bag contained clothing sufficient for a week, as she didn't know exactly what she was going to be dealing with. This was the first time she was asked to go to meet members of the Brotherhood instead of having them come to her.

The Cheydinhal Bridge Inn was run by a pleasant Imperial woman who immediately offered her the best wine they had in the house upon seeing the insignia of the Arcane University on her bag, which implied power and the golden Spelldrinker amulet around her neck, which implied wealth.

Lisette didn't really know long she would be waiting; presumably, she would have to order a room for the night. The sun would set in two hours or so and so far, all she needed was a nice meal, which she got for a killer price. Obviously, the innkeeper believed her to be a messenger from the Arcane University sent to the Count or the court mage. Later on, several members of the resident Mages Guild guildhall came to the inn for dinner and, upon spotting the insignia on her bag immediately eyed her interest. However, before the Argonian who seemed to be leading them could approach Lisette to ask her about her business in the city, a Khajiit sat down at her table.

It was difficult for most people to tell what expressions Khajiit had, but Lisette, having J'Skar for a friend, was more experienced than most. This Khajiit was a mage, she could tell at once, sporting an ancient-looking olive green robe of an apprentice and a scruffy headband to keep the longer fur around his ears out of his face. He seemed gruff, in general, and regarded Lisette in precisely that manner even as he put his paws on the table after sitting down.

The dark ring on his left forefinger was difficult to miss.

"Miss Blanche, is it?" he asked, obviously disgruntled by the fact that someone had ordered him to defer to her. "From the University?"

Lisette nodded, knowing better than to ask for names now. "Ah, yes, I am."

"We have been expecting you." the Khajiit said without introducing himself and got up without even touching the wine the nearest waitress brought him, tossing more than enough septims on the table to pay for both drinks. He stood up immediately, evidently not one for small talk. "Come with me."

The Khajiit didn't even wait for her entire response and wordlessly led the way out of the inn. The mages watched all this with mild interest, but Lisette could only spare them a slight smile before leaving into the evening with her escort. They progressed through the city together, though the Khajiit was obviously trying to walk in front of her as much as possible. However, they were both dressed in robes, so it didn't seem necessary to disguise that they were together. What Lisette couldn't guess was where she might be led – it was nearly impossible to imagine that here, in such a vibrant and picturesque city, lay a den of assassins.

She jogged up to the Khajiit in an attempt to find out at least part of her task. "So could you tell me what I am needed for so that…?"

"We will not speak of anything before we get back home." the Khajiit said, glaring at her for a brief moment. Lisette got the distinct feeling that he didn't like her, but then again, he seemed to glare at every human or elf that passed him, so she supposed that he would have been friendlier if she were an Argonian or one of his own kind. "Let me make this quite clear to you; you are not one of the Family. You have no right to enter the sacred grounds of the Sanctuary. Unfortunately, that isn't my call to make."

"I see." Lisette said shortly, a bit taken aback. This was more akin to what she had expected previously, quite contrary to the downright creepily cordial behavior the assassins had treated her with so far.

During her days in High Rock, few had dared and even nowadays, no one would say such things to her face without reason. Somehow, she wondered if he would say such things before the other assassins.

At long last, they reached a street near a gate to the city that was filled with matching, perfect houses. Only one was different, a single less immaculate house at the end of the street; it was practically a ruin compared to the others, with an old, tattered well and barred doors and windows. It looked like a blemish on the face of an otherwise flawless city and somehow, Lisette got the distinct feeling that if anything was their destination, this was. However, it was so blatant and obvious; she wondered how come they managed to stay hidden for so long.

"Here is where you must be blinded." the Khajiit noted, stepping in front of her.

Lisette blinked. Blinded? "Pardon?"

Whiskers shifting slightly in annoyance at her slow comprehension, the Khajiit proceeded to explain.

"No one apart from the Family may know where this place is located. A temporary blinding spell. Or permanent, if you annoy me." The irritation in his voice somehow failed to menace Lisette. He didn't have the authority to blind her permanently; she knew that somehow. Otherwise he wouldn't be playing lackey.

"You will lead me safely, then." It was a condition, not a question and the answer confirmed her theory – both about the discrimination and the low status of the Khajiit among the resident guild.

"Every child and pet must be led by the hand, no?" he huffed before stepping in front of her and muttering a few chosen arcane words.

Lisette felt her vision go black, slowly, as if night fell in a rapid darkening of the world. Then, a grip on her left forearm steadied her after spinning her around, as if they were playing hide and seek, effectively making her lose any sense of direction. However, they decidedly didn't go to the front door of the shabby-looking house; rather, they were entering from the back, so to speak. She could sense ancient magic around them as the cobblestone beneath her feet vanished in favor of a steadier ground that suggested the interior of the building she had seen. Then, there was a rapid descent, though fortunately no stairs and she heard something like a gigantic stone door open.

Like a tomb sliding open, she realized, feeling a brief shiver caress her skin.

_Welcome home…_ a voice rasped so quietly that she was forced to wonder if it was actually real, not in her head.

Clearly, however, it was not and the Khajiit muttered a dispelling enchantment as the heavy door sealed itself behind them. For several moments, Lisette's vision remained hazy; at least, until she got used to the dim torchlight and the slightly claustrophobic underground nature of the Sanctuary. There were no windows, so Lisette was quite certain that they were under ground.

She blinked rapidly to regain her vision while several series of footsteps in light boots became audible around her. All the figures she could make out were dressed in matching black armor, like the one Lucien Lachance had worn when he had saved her last time.

"I have brought your pet, Ocheeva." the rude Khajiit mage announced, walking towards a rather imposing Argonian woman. She seemed to be the leader around here, with beautiful scales and tasteful jewelry decorating her head.

However, contrary to the warm color of her scales, the glance she gave the Khajiit was quite cool.

"Manners, M'raaj Dar." she noted in a stern voice that left no room for discussion. "She is our guest and here to help us."

"We don't need help from outsiders!" M'raaj Dar muttered, glaring at Lisette. The Breton decided to look elsewhere, focusing on Ocheeva momentarily before glancing around. There were no bloodstained weapons or altars to doom anywhere around her. Yet this was a true guildhall of the Dark Brotherhood she was standing in.

"And yet I don't see you whipping out any potion that would help us solve our predicament." a remarkably tall Bosmer woman with a bow swung over her shoulder noted smugly, glancing at the Khajiit with distaste.

M'raaj Dar let out a single "Hmpf." before stalking away down a dimly lit corridor. The Bosmer snickered quietly, but let it go. As for Ocheeva, she smiled kindly at Lisette, obviously taking up the role of introducing her to the whole new and strange environment.

"Greetings, child, and welcome to Cheydinhal. I am Ocheeva, mistress of this Sanctuary. Lucien told me all about you; you are called Blanche, yes?"

"Indeed." Lisette tried to recover by nodding. She had met assassins before, so she shouldn't be so nervous, but the reality of things was much different. Here, they didn't have to conceal what they were. She was on their grounds now, where their rules were the only rules. It was… intimidating, to say the least. "I have received this letter from him bidding me to come quickly… has something happened?"

"It is better seen than told, I fear." Ocheeva assessed correctly, beckoning Lisette closer. Her fear was easy to read and the Argonian truly intended to try her best to make her feel welcome. After all, that was the only way she could work well. "Come, don't be afraid. Pay M'raaj Dar no heed." she added when they passed the mage's room on the corridor. "He is simply unused to strangers."

"She has no right to be here!"

"Your remedy didn't manage to solve our problem, so I imagine someone who might help has every right to be here." the Bosmer retorted, practically materializing behind Lisette and Ocheeva. Their skill at stealth was practically inhuman; the expression was twice as fitting in their cases.

They reached what seemed to be the resident alchemy lab, if Lisette was to judge by the amount of arcane equipment and ingredients around. An Argonian was sitting behind one of the tables, reading a book. His scales matched Ocheeva's, though he was decidedly male and he rose from his spot to shake Lisette's hand when she came close enough.

"Greetings, dearest Cousin. I am Teinaava." he said pleasantly. Lisette didn't introduce herself, knowing that it would be highly redundant now. Everyone seemed to know her or at least they had heard of her. "We have all yearned very much to meet you. Lucien hasn't told us nearly everything we would like to know."

For some strange reason, Lisette felt hope at that notion. Lucien was a more familiar element to her than anyone else around. Not that he was an entirely welcome element, but he was something she could come to terms with more easily now.

"He is here?"

"Unfortunately, no." Ocheeva answered, shaking her head. It was obvious now that she was the one in charge here, at least momentarily. "His rank doesn't allow him much time in the Sanctuary. He is off somewhere running errands for Speaker Portus. You might meet her as well." she added, apparently considering that a good thing.

"If you succeed in your task, of course." the Bosmer woman added, also shaking Lisette's hand,"My name is Telaendril, an Assassin of the Brotherhood. Maybe we should show him to our Cousin, Ocheeva?" she asked the Argonian while Teinaava offered to put Lisette's bag into the nearest chair.

The Breton blinked. "Him?"

A frown creased Telaendril's brow upon hearing this. "How much has Lucien told you about the problem?" she asked, sounding just the slightest bit worried. Everything was pointing to the fact that this was likely a difficult problem. Certainly not something Lisette liked being faced with, but then again, no one had ever said this was going to be easy.

"Next to nothing, only that it is urgent."

"Come with us, then, please." Ocheeva interjected, leading the way to another chamber.

It was only then that Lisette realized just how vast the underground Sanctuary was. It almost seemed as if the structure of the tunnels went on beneath the entire city, or a large part of it. Finely chiseled caverns and corridors, lit well enough to be almost homey – something she would never have associated with a place of such darkness.

They passed several armed Dark Guardians on the way – the mage had only read about those – until they entered what seemed to be a training chamber; save for a large stone table in the middle of it that looked vaguely coffin-like to Lisette. What was on it wasn't visible, because an Orismer was blocking the view – one of the largest orcs Lisette had ever seen, armed with a great axe and clad from head to toe in armor that seemed to be Daedric.

He turned when the others entered, his green face slightly grim. It didn't seem he noticed Lisette at first.

"I put him over there, Ocheeva; he doesn't seem much better." His voice was deep, as it was with all of his race, but slightly mournful now.

Ocheeva nodded curtly. "Thank you, Gogron."

"So, this is the dear Cousin we have heard so much about?" Gogron spotted the petite mage and gave her a half-hearted smile. Obviously, he was a person used to smiling but when he was upset about something, like now, it really got to him. "Welcome among us!"

"Gogron, please don't hug her." Telaendril interjected, stepping into things before the muscular Orc could embrace Lisette and crush her arms and ribcage. "We need a healer, not another patient."

"Right, sorry, Tel."

"Have a look at him, please." Ocheeva asked, far more humbly and less cheerfully than before. Gorgon was ushered out of the way by Teinaava and Lisette finally saw what lay on the table. Or who, more likely.

It was a man.

Finely dressed in tasteful black and dark green clothes, the only thing that made Lisette certain that he was one of the assassins was the dagger on his belt. If she was to venture a guess, she would have said that he could be about ten years older than her in appearance, more or less. However, it was difficult to guess based on appearance alone. Even with his eyes closed, obviously asleep, he bore the distinct signs of vampirism; pale complexion, prominent cheekbones, slightly haggard, perhaps even mildly bestial features… his eyelids were pale as well and Lisette had no doubt that his eyes would be either red or golden once they opened.

This man was no Seridur, though; the stage of his disease was advanced.

In life, he might have been handsome and even now he wasn't entirely bad-looking with the long brown hair framing his face… only his condition was apparent. It was like looking through a kaleidoscope filled with twisted mirrors; it was still real, just… off.

He was a Breton like her, so it was all the easier for her to recognize these peculiarities. It was obvious that he had either allowed himself to progress into the late stages of the disease or he was very old, which was more likely, given his profession.

"I do hope it isn't about the porphyric hemophilia…" Lisette noted, simply because she felt the eyes on her and needed to say something. She couldn't take her eyes of the comatose vampire, simply because she had never seen something of the sort before. And a chance to study one… most mages would sell their souls for that chance. "I cannot cure that."

"A funny one as well!" Gogron roared, patting her on the back, which sent Lisette crashing into the altar-like bed. At least she got closer without feeling her knees shake, though it was hardly better now. "I like her!"

"This is Vicente Valtieri, one of our top-ranked Executioners." Ocheeva explained, coming to stand next to Lisette, who touched the vampire's hand to examine the coldness of his skin and lack of a pulse. Dead, obviously. Undead. "He has been comatose like this for many days and we cannot seem to find a reason. There are no wounds and he hasn't informed us of anything. We just found him like this one evening."

Lisette frowned, letting go of Vicente's hand, which seemed thoroughly lifeless. Curing a vampire. Talk about an impossible task. Their immune systems were peculiar, but could resist almost any kind of disease. For one to bring a vampire down…

"I don't know if I'm the right person for this… I will try." she said at once, seeing the morose faces of the assassins. She remembered that look – it was the relatives that had come to the deathbed of a sickly person. They were afraid they were going to lose him. "I will need alchemical equipment to analyze a blood sample. I don't suppose any of you has a syringe at hand?"

Ocheeva shook her head regretfully, though she seemed far more hopeful than she had been a moment ago. "Unfortunately, no. I suppose we will have to do this the hard way."

"I guess." Lisette noted, gently raising the eyelid of the slumbering vampire's left eye. Even his gaze was vacant, sleep-like. She let go, allowing the red eye to close.

"You have full access to all the resources of the Sanctuary, Blanche." Ocheeva proclaimed without hesitation, no one denying those words. "Teinaava will help you with whatever you need; he is most precise when it comes to… knife work."

"I see." Lisette said curtly, slightly uneasy about the whole thing. It struck her as strange that she was more afraid of the experiment than the Argonian's expertise with "knife work".

"If you need alchemical supplies or help, I can show you around." Teinaava added helpfully. "M'raaj Dar mostly deals with enchanting objects, not necessarily using the alchemy workbench."

Lisette nodded and made her way back to the alchemy lab with Ocheeva where she began organizing her equipment and ingredients. Telaendril fetched a clean vial for Teinaava; in a few minutes, the Argonian returned with a flask filled with what was obviously fresh blood. By then, Ocheeva had managed to usher Gogron away and wish Lisette luck with her task.

"Here is the sample you requested." Teinaava noted, putting it on the wooden table in front of the mage, who was sorting out some primrose leaves.

"Thank you. Any changes in the subject's condition?"

It seemed slightly strange to Teinaava to consider one of their own a subject, but he knew better than to correct Blanche. She was obviously slightly worried about what was being asked of her.

"None whatsoever." He smiled disbelievingly at her immaculate ingredient-chopping, earning himself a curious glance. "Forgive me; it is simply odd to be working with someone from the Mages Guild like this."

"I suppose there is a first time for everything." Lisette noted with a small shrug, going to the nearest bookshelf to see what they had about Restoration. Predictably, the selection was a bit limited in that area.

"Indeed. I will ask someone to arrange food and lodging for you. We have moved a bed to Vicente's room for you, since he will not be using the chamber for some time." Teinaava explained shortly. Perhaps it would be better if he left her alone for the time being, so that she could grow accustomed to the surroundings.

She seemed highly grateful for that. "Thank you. I will need some time to analyze this."

"We greatly appreciate your help." the Argonian reminded her before closing the door to the alchemy lab. "Rest assured that everyone here wants Vicente to recover as soon as possible."

It took her about a week to even get close.

Lisette analyzed the precious blood sample with every method she knew, but she couldn't get a single oddity or strange reading. Human blood, fresh, without any kind of contamination or disease; certainly nothing that would do harm to a creature who used it for nourishment.

It was difficult to tell the time with the lack of any windows around and so Lisette practically forgot herself. No one wanted to disturb her, obviously, and, immersed in her work as she was, the mage forgot about her fear of the Sanctuary or the unsavory first greeting she had received. It was an experiment like any other.

A job.

Finally, there was a firm knock on her door and Lisette jumped slightly, her train of thought broken.

"Enter." she called, putting another book to its shelf before turning to see who was there.

It was a young man, a Breton like her, with a weary face that made him appear somewhat older than he likely was. She hadn't seen him before and every assassin seemed to make a habit of coming to check upon her for a few moments, once or twice. Then again, she didn't leave the room that often, with the quantity of work she had to cope with.

"Ocheeva was getting worried, so she has asked that your food be brought to you." he said, laying a tray of obviously fresh cuisine on a table away from her experiments.

"Oh, thank you." Lisette hadn't realized that she was actually hungry, but upon seeing the food and cutlery, she couldn't help but do so.

"Has your research yielded any success yet?" the Breton inquired politely, standing even while she took a seat, almost like one of her servants back at home would.

Lisette smiled, but it was a bitter gesture. "Would you like the truth or a comforting lie?"

"I don't really believe you could act out a plausible lie, but I appreciate the choice." he noted, chuckling softly as she took a sip of her wine. As all the members of the Sanctuary, he seemed pleasant and civilized, thoroughly at odds with his profession.

It had unnerved Lisette initially, but the effect was slowly wearing off. Bit by bit.

"This is the first time I have had someone bring a meal to me like this." Lisette changed the topic of the conversation, seeing that he was studying her intently with a rather pleased smile.

"My pleasure, then. Mattieu Bellamont, Assassin by rank." he noted, bowing his head to her in a gesture of respect. Like Ocheeva and most of the others, he was dressed in the black armor of the Brotherhood, an iron shortsword hanging from his belt. However, contrary to the distinct faces of the others, he appeared rather plain, which was probably a bonus to an assassin.

"I didn't know that you make your own food around here, though I suppose it makes sense."

Bellamont shrugged slightly. "Everyone must do their part to contribute to the daily lives here, not just when it comes to our business."

"I see." Lisette took a bite of the roast chicken that had been presented to her. She wasn't too fond of strong flavors, but she had to admit that it was entirely edible. Delicious, even, if one forgave the slightly striking taste. "A bit heavy on the seasoning, but otherwise, it tastes very good."

"Thank you." Bellamont noted, confirming to Lisette that it was likely him who was on cooking duty that day. "I wasn't certain what you liked best, so I may have overdone it slightly with the-"

"Garlic." Lisette said, her voice going blank for a moment, as if she had had a revelation.

"Yes. A gourmet, then?"

"No, I just…" It was an almost absurd idea, but she couldn't find any other possible reason for this condition, so it was almost crazy enough to be true. "I remembered an old story I read in a book about legends and folklore, but I didn't think that this could apply… but there is the chance that it might…"

"They do say that folklore is simply forgotten wisdom." Bellamont commented, looking at her with some concern.

"Thank you for the idea." Lisette dropped her fork immediately and took the food to her work table. "I have to get to work; maybe you have helped me more than you know with this food."

The assassin left with a somewhat puzzled expression, understanding himself to be dismissed when Lisette returned to her work with new enthusiasm. She fished out the garlic from her ingredient stash and proceeded to check the reaction of the blood to the new substance.

In three more hours, when Bellamont returned to check up on her, Lisette was finishing her potion. There were dark shadows forming under her eyes and she looked exhausted, but there was a jubilant look in her feverish eyes. A small vial of a bubbling liquid was right in front of her and she was muttering a final incantation to finalize the Restorative effects.

"You should get some sleep, Blanche." Bellamont commented when she acknowledged his presence with a brief glance.

"I think I almost…" Lisette muttered, tossing yet another batch of ingredients into the liquid and turning up the heat of her magical fire to hasten the process. "I will have it… this might be ludicrous, but I think I should add this as well."

Taking a step closer, Bellamont observed the small pouch filled with something resembling dried dirt and allowed bits of it to drop into the potion. "What is it?"

"Vampire dust. Gathered only a few days ago." Lisette explained.

While Bellamont wasn't an alchemist, he certainly understood the concept of irony – he was a living irony, after all. "That does seem ludicrous."

"It's the strongest antidote to most diseases I know." Lisette explained quickly, handing him a book that he was supposed to return to some shelf. She was doing everything so mechanically but precisely, it almost seemed that she knew exactly what to do. "I need to counteract the poisoning, then heal him and this should do it…"

"So you think that Vicente's condition is a result of… poisoning?" Bellamont asked, sitting down while she ran around the room and he kept out of her way. Her hair was flying around her face, loose and covered in sweat and magical soot, but there was a flush of determination on her face that wiped the possible silliness of the image away.

"Likely unintentional, due to all the garlic." she speculated, throwing him a pointed glance as if to say that it was likely his fault, not that she blamed him much. The assassin blinked somewhat sheepishly, but Lisette was steering the potion by then and not at all looking at him. "It has weakened his system considerably and then all it took was one final nail into the coffin, pardon the pun."

"And you figured out all this from a folk myth." Bellamont added, almost awed.

"It's just a legend that vampires react badly to garlic. But it's worth a shot."

She was literally dismissing her own brilliance; it was enough to impress the assassin significantly. "You are something else."

"I wouldn't be useful to the Family unless I had skills of some sort." Lisette noted absent-mindedly, oblivious to his thoughtful glance. "Otherwise Lucien wouldn't have asked me to come and help."

"I see." His eyes narrowed ever so slightly at the mention of that hated name; however, Lisette didn't see it, which was a stroke of luck on his part, otherwise she would have likely asked him about it.

"Could you get Ocheeva for me? I'll let this stew for a minute and then I want to go try it."

With a curt nod, Bellamont stood up and headed out to do her bidding. "Very well."

Ten minutes later, the entire population of the Sanctuary was in the training room, watching either Lisette or the unconscious vampire. The potion in the Breton's hands was ready for consumption, even though even the mage herself didn't know exactly how it would work out.

"How certain are you of this potion's success?" Ocheeva asked firmly. Obviously, she didn't want to risk anything happening to Vicente or anyone else.

"About sixty-five percent." Lisette said, opting for honesty. "It won't harm him if we try, I'm certain of that."

"And if it does?" M'raaj Dar asked, glaring at the bottle she was holding as if it had insulted him personally.

Lisette didn't glare back; she was confident that this was going to work. "Restoration is my specialty. I can counter its effects by dispelling it within a few seconds."

"We found these in his room in case he needs it later on." Telaendril noted, producing three vials of what was obviously human blood. They were meticulously sealed, obviously for emergency usage only.

"Excellent thinking." Lisette said approvingly, readying her own potion.

By then, Ocheeva was certain that her confidence was genuine and accepted this was their best plan. "Very well. What are we to do?"

"Just stay with me. I don't know what reaction the potion might trigger." Lisette noted, approaching the comatose vampire with the slightest fear. The potion was meant for oral consumption, so Teinaava helped her by raising the vampire's head slightly. "This is an experiment; I haven't tried curing any vampire yet…"

Lisette brought the vial to Vicente's lips and gently made certain that all the potion went where it should. Even in its current state, it was warm compared to the vampire's skin. The mead-like liquid seemed to be doing nothing, at first glance, but then, slowly, the vampire's eyes opened, like a cat's, and adjusted to the dark. Lisette rather suspected that the fresh blood would be needed as soon as he came to, because her potion would likely neutralize both the poison and the nourishment the blood already in his system provided.

What she certainly didn't suspect was feeling an abrupt grip on her hand that literally yanked her forward a moment later, sending her crashing forward. It was like being held by a statue; cold, immaculate and startlingly powerful. Even if the vampire didn't possess preternatural speed, she wouldn't have been able to break free. And then, two surprisingly hot daggers dug into her throat and Lisette felt the world sway, along with the cries of the various assassins around her… not that any of them could counter the natural survival instinct of a creature deprived of nutrition.

"Blanche!"

"Vicente, steady!"

"Stun him, now. That's an order!"

"Fetch those blood bottles!"

But if she was released, Lisette didn't really feel it; she was falling, falling into blissful darkness. There was a beautiful meadow upon which someone she loved was waiting for her, his silhouette framed by the sun's rays. It was him and he was smiling, beckoning her closer – and in her heart, Lisette knew that she couldn't resist running into his arms.

And then, his embrace enfolded her and the sun vanished; all that was left was an icy grip of the corpse that had her in its grasp and would never, ever let her go… perhaps only to the single escape that unconsciousness provided.


	12. Bat

Long time, no update! But I hope to make it up to everyone by giving you a long scene with everyone's favorite bloodsucker! In any case, I'm in London right now, so my time for writing is rather limited, as there is very much to see and do here. I will try to write bits and pieces here and there, though.

**o.O.o**

**Bat**

**o.O.o**

It was a dream.

Peace and beauty were all around her, with nothing disrupting the perfect harmony of light. But she knew didn't belong here, for some reason. It wasn't where she was meant to stay. The light around her receded and Lisette remembered faintly that she was sleeping, somewhere she felt completely safe. High Rock was far away and the university no longer troubled her… not to mention all the unpleasantness with the Dark Brotherhood was little more than the residue of a brief nightmare.

Were it up to her, she would remain in the soft and warm bed forever, not even bothering to fluff her pillow or twist around under her covers. The comfort was amazing.

Aside from the faint scratching noise. That irritated her somewhat. It was rather like… a quill with a particularly sharp point sliding not too neatly over a sheet of parchment. She remembered that sound; more often than not, she was the source of it. Now, however…

The scratching and scribbling stopped momentarily and it seemed that a chair moved, but then again Lisette didn't hear any footsteps, which meant that she had to still be half asleep. Was it possible to even think if she was only half-conscious? Nevertheless, she thought that it might be nice to try and open her eyes. Perhaps only to see why the light had dimmed and return to the blissful emptiness of unconsciousness.

Lazily, two blue eyes slid open, appearing almost green in the faint torchlight. They took in the interior of the initially unknown room, familiar in its windowless, underground glory. The Sanctuary. So she really was down there. Then, the shadow that had come close took the shape of a man who Lisette immediately remembered. Her hands clutched two fistfuls of the heavy blanket she was covered with, but she knew she had absolutely no chance whatsoever against a vampire or a trained killer, least of all when both were the same person.

However, even when conscious, Vicente Valtieri didn't appear frightening; intimidating, certainly, if he wished to be, but not horrifying without the intention to do so. Certainly not when he was sitting at the bedside of a sleeping patient with a book in his hand and just the slightest concern etched into his features. The minor show of emotion succeeded in making his face appear far closer to the human countenance it had once been than the supernatural wonder it had been turned into by circumstances.

"Awake at long last, I see." His voice was a light tenor, slightly nasal but otherworldly pleasant in its eeriness.

The vampire languidly extended a pale hand to put on Lisette's forehead. When she itched away just a fraction of an inch into her pillow, the faintest trace of amusement flickered in his eyes, dying as quickly as it had appeared. He was obviously used to such reactions and his tone and manner of speaking were both at their gentlest to compensate for that. It sounded rather like a father trying to comfort a small child after a bad nightmare.

"You needn't be afraid this time."

Fear… fear was a magnet that could attract the attention of many; predators, mostly.

"I wasn't… afraid back then." Lisette retorted, her voice sounding hoarse to her own ears. The events of her last memories were fuzzy, but she remembered the moment when there was a caressing breath on her neck and then pain and bliss and darkness. "Maybe that was the mistake."

"Now the opposite would be an even graver error." the vampire countered, sitting on the edge of her bed, just far enough to allow her space but close enough to monitor her current condition. Their positions were reversed today, with him being the healer and her the patient.

Vicente's touch was cool, as one would expect from an undead creature, but the last thing one would think would go with that was the gentleness of the gesture. Not only did it reawaken Lisette's senses, it also calmed her down the slightest bit. Some part of her was beginning to realize that she wasn't in danger, at least not now. It could be just part of the vampiric allure speaking to her subconscious self, lulling her into a sense of security, but she believed it this time.

The vampire's room remained halfway between a castle dungeon and an office, with highly organized stacks of paper on a nearby desk. The semblance to the former was emphasized mainly by the stone table that likely served as a bed to the vampire; something which she had seen back in the training room.

Carrying that around must have taken some time. So…

Lisette tried to sit up, but somehow, her vision went dark the moment she raised her head too quickly. Her blood pressure was low, too much so to allow her to leap from the bed. At once, Vicente was at her side, supporting her head as she lowered herself back to the pillow.

"Careful; your body might not have fully recovered yet." the vampire noted, observing the paleness of her skin. She had enough blood to live now and enough to be able to function, but it would take time before she could exist on her own. Nevertheless, for such a slight frame and relatively weak constitution, it was remarkable to have survived this.

"How long…?" Lisette trailed off, blinking to fight off whatever remnants of sleepiness she possessed. Fortunately, Vicente understood the question.

"Three weeks. I fear I drained you without the slightest consideration." Vicente looked regretful of that fact or at least a little ashamed of his lack of control. It had been the major blood loss taking over in a survival instinct, but that certainly didn't excuse his rash actions.

The mist between Lisette's memories was clearing a bit. She had obviously fainted due to the blood loss of the draining. Which was likely why she couldn't stand up on her own now. "That would explain the…"

"Mild nausea is natural." Vicente confirmed when she failed to rise into a sitting position for the second time and sank back into her pillow. Three weeks actually seemed like too little time to recover from such a major loss of blood; maybe enough to wake up, regain consciousness, but certainly not to start walking and working. "I'm afraid all I can offer you are sincere apologies and gratitude for restoring me to consciousness." The vampire continued observing her basic condition, checking her pulse and body temperature.

"You're taking… care of me?" At a different time, Lisette might have smacked herself (at least mentally). So much for intelligent questions. This was obviously the room she was to have temporarily lived in; his room.

Vicente nodded curtly. Now certain of her well-being for the moment, he stood up soundlessly from the edge of her bed and returned to his desk.

"Of course. Letting you die of blood loss would count as poor manners on my part." he noted, his thin lips forming something akin to a small smile of amusement without actually being that.

"I see. Then I'm not…"

A pale, trembling hand reached out as Lisette tried to feel the spot where she had been bitten. The marks were gone by now, though the skin remained just a bit sensitive to the touch. She already knew the answer, really, but she wanted to hear it from him. Her only hope was that the vampire wouldn't take offense of her edginess about this.

"You know…" she trailed off rather lamely, but the implication was clear.

"Such an intention wasn't present in my actions; you were simply the closest and most defenseless prey." Vicente explained, watching the moment when she relaxed visibly with interest. The loss of blood had rendered her even easier to read and more interesting to observe. And they so rarely had visitors from outside of the Family in their very Sanctuary. "Were it not for the timely action of the others, we wouldn't be conversing right now."

Lisette nodded; she didn't remember that, but she seemed to recall a rather swift blur of action all around them when this started, so she supposed that it had to be all of the others jumping into action to separate the two of them immediately. A different group of individuals would most certainly not have succeeded; they had to be very swift and coordinated for this to work.

"I'll have to thank them as soon as I get up." the mage said gratefully.

Third time might be the charm, but she didn't attempt to get up just yet; now that she understood why she felt so faint, she knew that it was paramount that she get some rest even now. Fainting again wasn't something she preferred.

"I will tell them that you are better, but you should rest some more." Vicente said as he organized the few papers in his hands neatly. After centuries, likely, he seemed to have remarkable skill in keeping his desk tidy and orderly, almost unnaturally so. Lisette could only guess what the paperwork of an assassin's guild involved, but she supposed that even Sithis had to have a shelf with several files with the names of those sacrificed in his name. "I hope you don't mind staying in this room for the time being. I could arrange the bed to be brought to Ocheeva's quarters if you prefer, but it is more convenient this way."

"It's all right."

Her things had mostly been stashed around her workplace, with a makeshift bed brought there – she hadn't used it much. Now, she was more comfortable. Lisette felt as if she was being scanned, really, and so she lowered her eyes for a moment. Acting like a child seeing a Khajiit or an Argonian for the first time in her life – with wide-eyed curiosity – was certainly not the way she should treat someone who was being this polite to her, biting instincts aside.

"Forgive me; I have simply never spoken with one of your kind like this. Actually, I have before I got here, but he tried to charm me and then drain me, so I suppose that doesn't count as polite conversation."

She was rambling on a bit, but caught herself quickly, before peering up once more. Honesty, Vicente mused. A rare sight these days, to wear one's heart on their sleeve. A bit simplistic, perhaps, but not unwelcome, especially in a world of manipulation and cunning.

"You are an interesting young mage." he noted, justly repaying honesty with the same card. "It seems that Lucien has developed a talent for understatement when describing you."

Most of the correspondence from their current rising star was addressed to Vicente, who had contributed most to his training. Of course he had mentioned their latest odd addition to the Family, but it was certainly not sufficient information when in concerned someone who seemed to be the very antithesis of what a Dark Brotherhood member should be.

"Thank you, I guess." Lisette said, feeling actually a little more tense.

Come to think of it, she hadn't seen Lucien around the Sanctuary, yet everything seemed to hint that he was part of this branch of the Family. Part of her was actually looking forward to seeing him again – a bit, at least. She might finally get the chance to reclaim her pendant. Assuming he had it. Assuming it wasn't forever lost somewhere.

It would just be nice to see a familiar element, something she knew how to react to.

"Speaking of polite conversation, I suppose a polite introduction is in order. I am Vicente Valtieri, Executioner." the vampire said with only a bit of formality, giving a polite bow of his head. He was in no way old-fashioned, but it would likely be an understatement to say that he was old even for his kind.

"I am Blanche." Vicente raised his eyebrows and just for a moment, Lisette wondered if vampires could read minds.

"No surname?" he asked, apparently disapproving. "I would have thought whoever assigned you a codename would have at least thought of Breton customs." Members of the Brotherhood acted under their own names most of the time, though some had changed them before the start of their career.

"How do you know it isn't my name?" Lisette inquired, genuinely curious and a bit thrilled at the same time, her fear receding by the second. Most mages would kill for this opportunity.

"Your heart quickens by a fraction of a second." Vicente explained, even at the current moment sensing the blood being pumped through her body. Just as he had predicted, there was a momentary jolt in her circulation that confirmed this when she took in the information. It was fainter than usual due to her condition, but the whisper of the sound still reached his ears. "I can hear it better than you might think."

"My friends call me Blanche and I suppose it is used for convenience." Lisette said finally, shrugging slightly. Nicknames were to be expected everywhere, no matter what their nature. At least Vicente wasn't able to read her name from her mind… or he was masking it well.

"Blanche." The vampire allowed the name to roll off his tongue quite easily, making the single syllable sound quite important and wonderful. "Bianca. That would perhaps suit you better. Pity." he added in a different dialect. He then glanced at his patient, though his brief look of contempt was directed to those that weren't present; those he spoke of. "How astute, these mages. Would you like something to eat or drink?" he asked a moment later, observing the pallor of the bedridden mage with a kinder glance. "I would recommend it to help your blood supply replenish quickly."

"Yes, thank you." Lisette said, nodding as much as her condition allowed. Immediately, the vampire was at her side with a glass of water that had apparently been at hand just in case she woke up. The preternatural speed he used was still unnerving, but after so many strange encounters, Lisette wasn't shocked by it as she might have been. Like a healer, Vicente waited until she finished her glass and repeated the question about food. Knowing that he wouldn't be dissuaded, the mage gave a little smile. "Just nothing with garlic in it, please."

"I am forced to wonder whether you are worried for yourself or for me." the vampire noted, but his tone wasn't reprimanding. Perhaps he had underestimated the girl somewhat if she was capable of humor as well. She was an innocent, but not the bland kind of innocent. There was potential for development in her. "Rest assured that I gave Mattieu my opinion on his choice of ingredients and a fair warning. It isn't an experience I would wish to relive."

Lisette understood better than he likely thought. "I hope you won't have to, because I don't really remember what I put into that potion I used." she pointed out, recalling the frantic last hours of potion making.

"And you might not be at hand when we need you." Vicente added, pointing towards a drawer that had obviously been freshly filled with clothes. The bag Lisette had carried with her was there as well. "Your belongings are over there. Telaendril has loaned you one of her nightgowns until we could find your clothing."

"I will have to thank her for that." Lisette hadn't even noticed that she wasn't wearing her own clothes and that her hair was down. By the time she saw herself in a mirror, she assumed she had to look positively wraith-like and that assumption turned out to be true from her point of view.

Vicente only studied her for a few moments, but it seemed he was satisfied with her. "You have made quite the impression on everyone. I daresay you are unofficially part of the Family now." he noted, but it wasn't a threat. Coming from him, it was a pledge. "It is time for us to take care of you."

The vampire made good on his word. He refused to allow her out of bed, let alone the room itself, until he deemed her fit to walk and function on her own; both of these occurrences would likely take at least a few more days, he mentioned. As the member of the Sanctuary with the least need to sleep, he was also the perfect caretaker for a bedridden person. He would fetch the mage books when she requested them and converse with her from his paperwork if the time allowed it. As an Executioner, he was also one of the members who were least likely to be away for longer than a few hours, during which Lisette was instructed to sleep.

The resident Argonian siblings visited her the day she woke up with Ocheeva thanking her profoundly for what she had done and Teinaava complimenting her swift thinking and brilliant alchemy skills. M'raaj Dar was sulking somewhere; this in itself wasn't that unusual, though Telaendril noted that he never liked newcomers to the Sanctuary. This counted twice so when they had some magical ability. Add to that that Lisette had outdone him on the healing field and he could no longer mock her…

Few Khajiit possessed great magical ability and to get it to a sufficient level often required years of training. And here, she had succeeded so relatively quickly. Lisette could chalk the animosity up to that, but she didn't really like the idea.

Gogron was forbidden entry into the room simply because most people doubted that Lisette would survive one of his hugs in her current condition. As for Bellamont, one of his punishments for his mishap was a series of assignments no one would undertake willingly, so Lisette didn't see him during the week she spent under the vampire's care. However, the others did notice that their usually withdrawn Brother was more than willing to provide whatever help he could to the young woman's recovery and comfort.

It was better than staying at the Tiber Septim Hotel in the Imperial City, actually.

A week later, Lisette was reading a book in the evening when Vicente returned to the room, only this time, he wasn't carrying food for her, only frowning slightly. That usually meant that something serious was going on and so Lisette automatically lowered her book to listen.

"Blanche, Speaker Portus has arrived and wishes to speak with you." the vampire announced with an unreadable expression; it was impossible to tell whether he approved of this or not. "Are you able to stand?" he asked, offering the mage a hand to get up.

"I haven't really tried…" Lisette confessed. She had been out of bed a few times to wash herself and even change when needed, but it was always Vicente, Telaendril or Ocheeva helping her (depending on what she needed to do and who was available to help her). Surprisingly, none of these high-class assassins seemed to mind helping with such a mundane task.

If she didn't know that they were each of them capable of killing without the slightest hesitation, she would never have guessed what they were.

"I will help you walk."

She moved relatively slow on her own even now, but she was much stronger than before. Still, she was grateful for the help and took Vicente's hand without hesitation. Now more used to the vampire's preternatural strength, Lisette was able to regain her balance more easily. However, she still had to take his arm to steady herself and even raising a foot to walk was painstakingly slow.

"Slowly, come. Aurelia probably just wants to meet you; there is no reason for fear."

"How do you- oh."

Lisette knew what he was talking about; the organization of the Brotherhood and the categorization of its members had been outlined to her before. The highest ranked members she had yet met were Executioners. But a Speaker was… well, a Speaker. The Black Hand didn't pay social visits often and when they did, there was always a good – or bad – reason for it.

"It's only the anticipation." Which wasn't entirely untrue; Lisette knew enough about the Brotherhood to understand the rarity of the situation.

"You would not be a very successful negotiator with such poor skills at deception, my dear." Vicente noted, easily summarizing that it wasn't anticipation; it was dread. A sentiment which was wise when meeting someone like a Speaker of the Black Hand; most people had good reasons for feeling as such.

"Guilty as charged." the mage admitted with a small sheepish smile. "Please help the cripple?" Lisette asked helplessly when she almost stumbled and sank into the bed again.

"Playing on my conscience?" Vicente asked, raising an eyebrow delicately while effortlessly helping the mage to her feet. "That is a low blow indeed."

**o.O.o**

Speaker Portus turned out to be an Imperial, as her name suggested, of average height and stature, with shiny charcoal hair tied in an elegant twist that made her appear younger. Her face was rather angular and a bit harsh, but when she smiled, it looked positively shark-like. This was the first time Lisette had met anyone from the Black Hand face to face and the Speaker, dressed in black from head to toe, certainly fit anyone's image of a Dark Brotherhood assassin; clad in darkness and carrying an unseen blade.

"Ah, so this is our newest addition to the Family." Her eyes were like two razors that pierced everyone they bore into. It was the cat contemplating the canary it had safely under its paw. However, her tone was rather friendly, quite at odds with everything else about her. "And Vicente, lovely to see you again."

"Aurelia, welcome home." the vampire noted graciously, inclining his head for a moment. "Your presence has been missed."

Whether he was being so deferential because she was his friend or his superior was uncertain. Lisette knew for a fact now that Vicente had been a Speaker himself several times before stepping down for various reasons. What reasons, Lisette chose not to ask for the time being. Mostly boredom, apparently, as he was most efficient at paperwork of any kind.

"Likewise, darling." The Speaker's sharp eyes surveyed Lisette as if they could see into the very depths of her soul. "So this is the miraculous witch doctor we owe so much to. You look exactly like Lucien described you, my dear."

Her voice was almost slightly motherly, but that wasn't necessarily comforting. Lisette rather pictured the old hag from a fairytale she had disliked in her childhood, the one who tried to lure children into her grasp by pretending to be nice. The difference was that the Speaker was genuine in her sentiment.

"I pictured you a bit older, though." Aurelia added as an afterthought.

"Her talent is quite prodigious." Vicente likely saw her discomfort and thus momentarily diverted the Speaker's attention from the mage, though it lasted only a second or so. It was such a bizarre scene; the two black-clad Dark Brotherhood assassins and the petite mage. By this point however, Lisette was certain that she wasn't dreaming. She didn't have the imagination for this.

"I am quite certain of that. As Vicente no doubt told you, I am Aurelia Portus; I am a Speaker of the Black Hand." the woman introduced herself, though it more a pure formality than anything. She was eying the Breton with some amusement; the cat was ready to toy with its cornered prey. "And you are quite a legend by now among our ranks."

"She is?" Vicente asked, somewhat dubiously. Lisette made no reply other than studying the floor intensely.

"Indeed." Aurelia nodded, still looking at the robe-clad mage like one might gaze upon an exotic animal that they could possibly corner. "I don't suppose she shared the story of how she escaped Banus' Silencer in Skingrad with you?"

Lisette visibly tensed; she herself had put the incident out of her mind. Trained herself to forget it, so to speak.

Vicente saw it, of course, as he was still supporting her, but chose to interrogate her later on. The word Silencer had naturally piqued her interest; it was unfamiliar to her and perhaps Aurelia shouldn't have used it so carelessly. Nevertheless, it was highly unlikely that someone as relatively inexperienced as Lisette could have subdued the now-deceased Silencer of a Speaker recently risen to prominence. In close combat, she wouldn't stand a chance against him.

"Banus Alor? Indeed?" Vicente repeated, simply to confirm that information. It would have been an odd joke to make, but the Imperial wasn't necessarily a conventional woman.

Aurelia simply gave her wide, toothy smile before turning back to Lisette with the air of an auntie conveying messages.

"Yes; Banus sends his regards, by the way. He said you have something of his still." The way she looked at Lisette almost suggested she knew precisely where the object she meant was kept hidden, not to mention that it was indeed there.

She was right on both counts.

Lisette had retrieved the Blade of Woe from her bag some time ago; she had gotten so used to carrying it around all the time that she almost felt something was missing when it wasn't somewhere on her person. It didn't make a very effective alchemy knife, but it gave her an eerie feeling of safety when the dagger was near. Kind of like nothing worse could cross her path than what she already carried with her.

She had never gotten the chance to find out who it had belonged to or what his fate had been. Without hesitation, though, she drew the ornamental dagger from underneath the robe she was wearing over her nightgown, showing it both to the Speaker and Vicente. Her hand trembled just the slightest bit, as it always seemed to when she held the peculiar object.

The vampire observed the blade in silence, almost trying to memorize every little nip in its edges. It would have fit into the girl's hand relatively well, were it not for her awkward grip on the blade; almost as if she were trying to balance a meat cleaver far too heavy for her.

"You are full of surprises, dear girl." he commented wryly. Vicente didn't think he'd ever seen anyone hold a weapon so awkwardly. Such a rigid hold looked almost painful.

"I-I'm sorry about stabbing him, but I had no choice!" the mage blurted out a moment later, glancing from one assassin to the other before allowing her gaze to drop back to the ground.

The dagger looked ready to fall out of her hand or become permanently attached to it. No one had ever shown her how to hold it properly, Vicente summarized; how she had been able to get away from a Silencer was certainly a story he would like to hear.

Aurelia herself seemed to share that sentiment, at least from an artistic and professional point of view.

"There isn't any need for worry; the boy was sloppy and ultimately paid the price. Killed on a different assignment." she explained when Lisette paled momentarily. Evidently, her conviction that she hadn't killed the man had been undermined just for a moment. Foolish child, really; they would have long since contacted and recruited her if it were so. "You may keep that dagger, dear. It fits into your hand better than it did into his anyway."

Lisette glanced at the Blade of Woe for a moment, relaxing her grip on it. She would never have been able to wield a large weapon, like a claymore or a war-axe, simply because of her small hands. However, the dagger was a very well-chosen weapon for her, at least for the beginning. A weapon, yes; she couldn't really imagine herself chopping up potion ingredients with the Blade of Woe.

"Thank you." she said simply, her voice a little stronger. They weren't going to kill her. Or recruit her, for that matter – that prompted almost equal relief. She hadn't killed anyone. All was well. All was… as well as it could be. "Will you be staying…Speaker?"

The robed figure laughed rather like an evil stepmother from a fairytale might; it was a shrill sound, but there was genuine happiness in it. One might imagine that once she finished cackling, she would fish out a poisoned apple from her dark robes.

"Please, call me Aurelia. I am not quite that old yet." the Speaker said, as if momentarily taking offense before answering the question. "Unfortunately, not for very long. I have duties that I must attend to. I have simply come to check up on you children, darling Vicente in particular. I am jubilant to see you back on your feet." she added, glancing at the vampire with her eyes almost beaming. "I had hoped…" Aurelia gave a slightly annoyed tut before addressing the room in general. "Stop skulking around and come greet everyone, Lucien." Even when chiding, it was a command. "There isn't any need to be shy in front of our guest – you two know each well enough by now, I presume."

At first, there was nothing, but then even Lisette – the only one who had been completely oblivious to any possible other occupants in the room due to her state and lack of training for such things – heard a set of footsteps echo softly through the room. Within moments, an almost familiar dark-clad figure materialized in the general direction where Aurelia and Vicente had been looking. Everything about Lucien Lachance was as it had been before, including the shrouded armor members of the Dark Brotherhood seemed to favor so much. Being indoors, he was missing only the hood, but otherwise, it was almost as if he had walked right out of Lisette's memory of their last encounter.

Mocking half-bow included, plus some sincerity in the gesture. That was a bonus.

"Dearest Cousin, I bid you welcome to our hallowed halls." Lachance noted with just the hint of pompousness, nothing of it overdone. His flair for the dramatic must have been either sated with his slightly extravagant entrance or subdued by the presence of his superior. Either way, when he straightened up, he towered Lisette by a head and a fraction of an inch, though when standing next to the Speaker, he seemed to grow taller with the slightest hint of pride.

It was difficult to tell if he was being sarcastic.

"I suppose I should address you by your rank, but I don't know if what I remember still applies." Lisette said instead of trying to openly discern it. The reply likely wasn't going to help.

The way he was standing behind Aurelia reminded her of a bodyguard – did assassins have them too? Perhaps they did; she could imagine people like Adamus Phillida, the now-retiring leader of the hunt for the Brotherhood trying to discover the identities of their leaders and have them put to death. And it was likely that the higher-ups didn't lead such tight-knit lives as the common Brothers and Sisters.

Lucien gave a smirk-like smile; the odd thing was that, as with his superior, there was sincerity in the expression, though it seemed far more predator-like than Aurelia's 'evil granny who's not so old' look. The hag and her pet panther. A match made in hell, surely.

"As has yours, it seems." Lachance noted, eying for a moment the amulet that was around her neck. There was no other visible sign of her new status, so it was likely this clue which had given him the final piece of the puzzle or he had simply heard it before.

Nevertheless, he observed the girl with interest. He had been only a messenger during their last contact, after all, and hadn't expected to actually see her this soon. Somehow, in the Sanctuary, she looked even less out of place than she had in Skingrad. Like a ghost, really; as if the wind could blow her away. Her hair hung freely around her face, giving her a slightly more mature look, though it only helped so much. Otherwise, she remained as Lucien remembered her, despite the rapid turns her life had taken. Which was a good thing; a lesser mind wouldn't have been able to stand the transition from the Arcane University to the Dark Brotherhood.

"Children, come now; you know each other's names." Aurelia chided motherly, with just the customary touch of venom in her eyes – what it was directed at, no one could guess. It was likely pure habit; she actually seemed amused. "Feel free to use those."

Lucien quickly bowed his head in agreement. "Of course, Speaker. I am simply trying to be courteous to make Blanche feel welcome among us."

"Then show her around, if you will." Vicente suggested, observing their brief exchange. "She spent most of her time locked away in the lab and later asleep. I'm certain the two of you have some catching up to do as well, seeing as you are already well acquainted."

He would one day have to hear how these two had met, though now wasn't the time. They obviously knew each other from before, whenever that might be and Lucien wasn't the kind of person whose interest was easily held. Then again, their little guest was an expert at making impressions, it seemed.

"A most welcome idea." Aurelia said with a nod before Lisette could object. She was aware to a certain degree of the history between the two of them, mostly from the official report. And if there was one thing that could secure loyalty, it was decent – even kind – treatment. Especially with people such as the mageling. "Vicente and I have things to speak of anyway."

That translated as: shoo, children. The adults are about to talk about grown-up things.

Lisette wasn't thrilled by the idea, but a single look at Vicente was enough to tell her that she wasn't supposed to question this plan or protest, if she liked her reception pleasant. Vicente helped her walk towards where Lachance was standing, even if she could have likely managed this herself by now.

"Slowly, Blanche." he said when Lisette almost staggered a bit in the moment when she wasn't being supported by anyone. It had been quite some time since she had walked properly, so the sensation was peculiar for a moment or so. "I will come and help you back to bed once we finish our business."

But Lachance, though he found the situation both comical and somewhat annoying, knew how to support her with ease. Lisette gave a shaky nod and latched onto her new guide's arm as if her life depended on it; or at least, her balance. She would never, ever live this down, she knew, considering the way Lachance seemed to be fond of teasing. For the moment, she focused on Vicente, delaying the inevitable.

"Very well. Thank you, Vicente." she said earnestly, her pale face brightening up when she glanced at the vampire. Surprising, considering that he was the cause for her condition, but then again, nobody ever said that mages were sane. Perhaps it was a requirement. "Speaker." she added, nodding politely to Aurelia.

"Remember to behave, Lucien." the Speaker couldn't resist saying as they left, looking rather like a kindly young lad leading an old lady across the street. Except that Lachance looked more like the kind of lad that would steal the old lady's purse once the good deed was done and Aurelia made certain to comment on that with a little laugh. "Don't scare the poor thing too much."


	13. Moon

Hey there! I finally got back home after a month of traveling and boy, am I exhausted. Nevertheless, I was quite looking forward to writing the next bit of the story, as we will be getting to the halfway mark of what I have prepared for this story plot-wise. This chapter was difficult for me to write, the first scene of it more so, even, because each of the characters knows a few things the other two don't, so it has to be interesting and balanced. Plus, I didn't want Lisette to emerge as too flippant, as she isn't like that; she doesn't have nearly enough self-confidence for that kind of rebellion at the moment.

**o.O.o**

**Moon**

**o.O.o**

There were many occasions in which Lisette wished she wasn't frail and didn't need the help of others. This counted as one of them, surely. Her blood pressure was returning to normal, but having lost so much of her life fluid still continued to affect her a little bit. After all, it was nearly a small miracle that she had survived.

Lucien found the proceedings the slightest bit amusing. It had been quite some time since he had last seen Blanche; not much about her had changed, really. Except her ability to walk, which was now somewhat impaired and required that she lean on him at times when she overbalanced and risked falling. It was odd, seeing her stagger like this when the mageling was as sober as she could be, though of course he knew the reasons behind the state she was in.

Unfortunate, that, but also remarkable. Not many people would have survived and recovered well. As Silencer, he was also privy to some information that hadn't been passed down to Blanche, so to prevent panic; that they were afraid, to some degree, if her body managed to handle the blow. She could have woken up impaired, unable to walk or with mental damage. Fortunately, none of these cases had come to pass. It also served to prove that she was made of hardier stock than she seemed.

However, now, stumbling on even while in his careful grip, Lucien couldn't help but think of Blanche as a newborn they were teaching to walk.

"Slowly." he said, barely showing any trace of this lingering amusement as he caught the mage before she could slip yet again. "Your condition has made you rather delicate."

Perhaps the stay at the Sanctuary had helped her, because the Silencer received the slightest hint of a glare from the mage, despite the fact that she continued latching onto his arm just the same; she had no choice. "You try being drained almost to the point of death by a vampire and tell me how it feels afterwards."

"Somehow I don't see Vicente treating me as if I were made of glass afterwards."

Of course the residents of the Sanctuary would make a porcelain doll of her because she truly looked like one, because she was one, compared to all of them. And naturally Vicente would want to return her into a calm mood upon risking her well-being in such a drastic manner. The vampire must have actually felt embarrassed about the whole ordeal; for such a one with impeccable control to lose it when facing a weak target, it must have been dreadful.

Blanche frowned, seeing only the surface of what he was possibly thinking.

"He has been highly courteous to me, unlike some other amulet thieves I could name." she noted, trying her weak glare again. It was a very watered-down version of what she might have picked up from the Sanctuary.

Ah, the necklace. She still remembered that? Lucien supposed that it was one of the two key sentiments dominating her memory of that first meeting: the fear of impending death and the inner flare that kept her going. He had hardly taken her for a woman who was so easily attached to a sparkly trinket.

"Some would call it a fair trade for your life."

"Others would name it simple theft." Lisette countered, just trying to discern what she could from what Lucien was saying. She couldn't get anything useful, really, so she decided to ask outright. "I don't suppose you have it anymore?"

"I regret to disappoint you." It was a lie, really, because he had it – if not with him, then at least in his possession – but he decided to keep some reminder of the odd nuance of a moment when, for better or worse, to help him never forget that no matter how good he might be, there were always unpredictable events that could bring his plans down at the last moment.

Lisette wasn't disappointed… not really. She hadn't expected Lachance to keep it; he had likely discarded it the moment he had managed to tear it from her neck by accident. Perhaps he hadn't even noticed. What she regretted was that she had lost something that belonged to Erline. It seemed that, one by one, the aspects of her life were changing to accommodate the shifts in her existence; meaning the presence of the Dark Brotherhood in her life.

Her face was unreadable for a moment, a feat quite unlike her usual open manner. Lachance noticed that, along with her change of mood and decided that a broody mage wasn't something he wanted to have on his hands.

"You have made quite an impression on Speaker Portus." he drawled, changing the topic without beating around the bush. "Not many succeed with that so quickly."

This was the truth, not that the mage knew it. Usually, no one lasted long enough to make an impression on the Speaker.

"Obviously, I am too easily memorable." Lisette retorted with some of the dryness she had managed to pick up from Vicente – she was a quick learner, if nothing else. But as for impressions, she spoke the truth; M'raaj Dar certainly classified her easily as a pest that should be removed and the others were kind to her for the obvious reasons.

That was all.

Lachance briefly wondered if it was the famed magi ignorance, or if she simply enjoyed understatement. Most likely, this was the former case. "Indeed. By the time you meet everyone in the Sanctuary, your kiss of death might be perfected."

Once again, Lisette almost tripped over her own feet and it took her a few seconds to get back up and think of something to say, let alone voice it. "Well… if it saves my life, it is a price worth paying." she retorted, as if musing. "I hope not to make a habit of it, though."

Lachance briefly had the disturbing and funny mental image of her attempting to do such a thing with M'raaj Dar or Gogron, which would have certainly led to more than a few lost teeth. "I would call this flirting with disaster, but that would cast doubt on your intentions."

"I agree with the disaster part of that." Where was this audacity coming from? Weeks ago, she wouldn't have dared to respond with such bite.

"Careful, or someday you will succeed in hurting my feelings." It seemed that the Silencer didn't mind, however; to a degree, he was actually satisfied with how the Family seemed to have influenced her. After all, it was like that with most of their members; not all of them acted as if they had been born with a knife in their hand.

Some needed time and… guidance.

In that moment, something akin to a small snort-like laugh escaped Lisette's lips, almost making her lose her balance again. Nevertheless, it was worth it. "What feelings?"

"As cruel as ever." Lucien drawled, not sparing her a glance this time.

It was a good question, actually, coming from her. Her views on the world of assassination spun around in such a short time, no doubt a great many things had to seem odd to Blanche, not least of all the care with which she was being treated. Of course someone who had actually tried to take her life would be difficult to view differently. Nevertheless, it was well within his right to mock a feeling of hurt.

However, it seemed to have quite a different effect on Blanche, who didn't seem to catch the sarcasm. "Cruel? You are the one who got me into this position! I am not here exactly out of the kindness of my heart."

"On the contrary; you managed to get yourself here quite on your own." Lucien countered truthfully. No one had asked her to administer the potion herself or even to stand in a front row during the proceedings. And it had been her actions that had gotten her noticed by the Brotherhood.

"You sent me the letter." Lisette pointed out immediately. "You asked me to come. If it wasn't your decision, why would you do that?"

"I'm flattered that you have such a high opinion of me." the Silencer helped her up several stairs; it seemed she was getting a bit more comfortable with walking now. Blanche blinked at him in surprise; she had actually believed it, then. "But no, I am not nearly high enough to make that kind of decision. I was chosen only because I know you best."

Lisette was silent for a moment as she absorbed all the information. Surprisingly, she nodded – her naïveté didn't irritate her as it would most people. "I suppose I should be glad."

"Oh?"

Briefly, she glanced at Lucien, as if the answer was just as obvious as what he had told her. "I know _you_ best."

They made their way to the dining room, as Lisette was obviously in need of sitting down after a little while, just after passing the training room. They met Teinaava along the way, who merely greeted them and informed them who was in the Sanctuary at the moment and who was out on assignments. There was no sign that their Speaker was present, as if this was regarded as purely a social visit, not a time to receive new instructions and such. Lisette was actually kind of surprised; from what she knew of the Black Hand, they certainly weren't easy masters.

The only person they encountered in the dining room was Bellamont, who was sorting out some of their supplies. Surprisingly, he was dressed in mostly casual clothes, which Lisette had seen only Vicente do during her time in the Sanctuary. Nevertheless, imagining that the Dark Brotherhood went out in their armor – the closest thing to a uniform they had – was preposterous and a bit funny.

"Blanche, it's wonderful to see you awake." the Breton said immediately, his eyes softening somewhat when resting on her. Without the hood, he seemed older, his features more angular, which was strangely emphasized when he glanced at the black-robed figure supporting the mage. "And Lucien… welcome back home, honored Brother." He gave a half-bow, almost more than his station required, but certainly not less. Bellamont was known for his courtesy.

Lucien nodded with what counted as politeness for him as he helped Lisette to a seat. He was on good terms with Bellamont, as far as he was concerned; the other man was a highly promising recruit and a cordial professional. "It's good to see you again, Mattieu. I trust your assignments are going well?"

"Exceedingly so, aside from the recent mishap…" Bellamont almost looked as if he was going to bite his lip in his guilt, but instead compensated with having trouble meeting Lisette's eyes. "I feel I must apologize for placing you in jeopardy in such a reckless manner, Blanche." he began solemnly. Lisette was actually surprised by such humility. "Had I known such a thing would happen…"

"You would have used onions instead." she interrupted, rather unwilling to hear out the entire apology. It felt uncomfortable to listen to it, far more than it was to bicker with Lucien. "I know."

The Silencer, who remained standing behind her even now, raised both of his eyebrows. "Onions." he repeated, accenting the word like a question, though he didn't wait for any kind of answer. "If you're trying to set up the sight of a crying assassin's guild, then you have been largely unsuccessful."

"Largely being the keyword." Lisette noted. Her mood was gradually bettering, which was perhaps something to be thankful to Bellamont for that – having a person who hadn't tried to kill her at least once in the room was somewhat helpful when conversing with the one who had intentionally tried to do so. Not that Lucien was in any way an offensive presence, but this was an aspect separating him from the other assassins.

Bellamont gave a cordial smile that seemed more genuine when directed at Lisette, but the notion remained unnoticed by the other two. "Are you here for some early dinner? I can get you something, just say what you'd like." he offered the mage, putting away the bag of apples he had been storing.

"Just some water, please." Lisette asked, actually somewhat thirsty. "I've been ordered to drink as much non-alcoholic liquids as my body can possibly sustain and you know that Vicente can tell if I'm lying."

"Blanche, you couldn't pull off a lie if it was handed to you on a golden platter." Lucien noted as the mage was given what she asked for and took a few sips of the cool liquid.

"There are always things to learn, I suppose."

"There's no need to change on our account, Blanche." Bellamont noted, fetching the jug of water for Lisette before returning to making a list of the food supplies that needed to be purchased. "We are more than content with the way you are now."

Lisette was more than convinced of that, though the reason for that was questionable. "Mellow, timid and easy to manipulate?"

"To some, perhaps." Bellamont noted, amused to some degree. "But you forget that we are a Family here, whatever else we may be."

"One big cheerful Family. Can't you feel the joy?" Lucien added as he went to fetch himself something stronger than water.

Lisette decided that it was better to keep to her water and decide that in this case, the joy might be taking the form of the cake she noticed nearby and helped herself to.

**o.O.o**

Neither Speaker Portus nor Lucien stayed for longer than a day; they had come to check upon things only and now that the task was over, they had other duties to tend to. Neither of them stayed long enough to see Lisette once more, though she received a goodbye passed on by Vicente once she got up in the morning.

In a week, she was able to walk again without anyone's aid, though she didn't really think she could sprint around without problems just yet. In any case, she was allowed to roam freely around the Sanctuary at any time – Lisette discovered very quickly that the schedule of the residents was inconsistent at best. All depended on when they arrived from a mission and when they had the time to do things for themselves and everything could change within a minute. Couriers came and went, delivering assignments to Ocheeva or Vicente, who handed them out to those they thought most suitable for the task.

Surprisingly enough, there weren't too many people inhabiting the rather large underground dwelling; it appeared that a woman named Maria had also been part of this branch of the Family, but she had been killed some months ago. Aside from that, there was no sign of other recruits, old or new, coming or returning to the Sanctuary. Lisette found that strange at first, though she was somewhat glad to see that the streets of Cyrodiil weren't filled with potential assassins – at least she hoped not. However, it was an easily established fact that the Brotherhood frowned upon freelancers to a degree and found them amusing to another point.

Some of them joined their ranks once given the opportunity. The rest quickly met with less… desirable ends, though because of their own incompetence, not the guild's involvement.

The Sanctuary was very well stocked; everything a person needed to function well enough. It was actually better off than even the Bruma guildhall of the Mages Guild; rare ingredients, nearly perfect equipment, supplies from all corners of the province. It was less than the Arcane University could provide its researchers, noticeably so, but it was still highly impressive. It was, in an odd way, something like a crossing between the Mages Guild and Lisette's old home in High Rock.

Magic and just the hint of possible murder in the air. This time, however, you didn't have to watch your own back – the Family was efficient and reliable and nothing like Lisette had expected.

She was in the small library – as usual – when Vicente found her – also as usual – and examined her for a few moments. Lisette was by now used to these medical surveillance sessions, if they could be labeled as such; being what he was, Vicente was easily able to determine the general state of her health just by looking at her and listening to her blood and breathing. Nowadays, though, he also asked her to walk around the room or do a few simple stretches to check her mobility.

Today was the last of these examinations, she found out.

"It seems that you are as healthy as you can be, given the conditions. Your blood supply has replenished and you have regained full control over your senses." Vicente announced once she sat down again to return to her books. "I believe you are free to go."

"Go?" The mage blinked. After three weeks spent in the Sanctuary without a day out of it, whatever claustrophobia she might have had initially was gone, but she had largely forgotten what being outside felt like.

"Yes, go." the vampire repeated, the right corner of his upper lip twitching slightly. She looked utterly bewildered, as if leaving the Sanctuary was beyond her comprehension now. It was likely that the recent events had completely pushed her routine into the background. "Back to the Arcane University, where you are sorely missed, unless I am very much mistaken. You _have_ been gone for almost two months now, which I doubt you had planned for." The information was getting into the mage's head only slowly, so Vicente gave her a little wake-up call, to see if she would react to that, at least. "Of course, I _could_ speak with Aurelia about you wishing to stay here…"

Lisette's eyes turned protuberant as she realized what he was saying after a major delay.

"No!" Then, she bit her tongue, berating herself for her stupidity. Offending hosts that had been so good to her was hardly a good thing. "That is to say… I mean…" What was she to say? You've been wonderful to me, but I don't fancy living with a bunch of killers longer than necessary because I still don't know why exactly I'm here? Sorry!

This was one of the moments when even a person who no longer needed air to exist had to sigh.

"Not much has changed in the outside world if mages still take longer than most to understand when someone is pulling their leg." Vicente shook his head ever so slightly when the mage seemed to finally understand what was going on and relax in a slightly less than easy manner. Predictable, yes, but, as usual, in her, it wasn't a negative trait. "You have gotten used to this place; remarkably quickly, I might add."

"I suppose." Supposing was unnecessary; she knew it. Three weeks wasn't enough to make friendships under normal circumstances, but the current circumstances were anything but normal. Yes, she was used to the Family members residing in the Sanctuary. As long as she didn't see what made the Brotherhood Dark, she could coexist with it. "I guess I… well… I never expected to like it here, I think." she finished lamely.

"You expected a dungeon filled with rusting arms and drying blood?" Well, when he put it that way… "How delightful. You aren't in Oblivion here, Blanche." Vicente noted, more kindly upon seeing her obvious shame to have ever thought something of the sort. "We are not Daedra to revel in such things; I don't think we differ from other guilds in many things."

The sheepish expression on Lisette's face deepened. "That is true. I had foolish fantasies about a lot of things before I came here. I never thought…" There were too many things to mention in such a short statement. Needless to say, some of her views had changed completely; some had been more than fully confirmed. But the greatest discovery was that she could live with it; live with the Brotherhood and live with the fact that she was, in a way, an expendable sleeper agent. "I will miss it here, in a way."

"I am glad to hear that. I wouldn't want the memory of your first visit be obscured by my initial rather rude treatment of you."

Such sentiments were actually somewhat unexpected, though the fact that they had not told her that she was alive only by a miracle of the Nine likely contributed to that. Again, it was one of those foolishly naïve displays of a nature easily influenced by kindness; Vicente was glad that he had been able to spot that chink in her armor before someone could exploit it against them all. It would take a tremendously talented sculptor to turn the raw material Blanche was into something suitable to their organization beyond what she was now. At the moment, that was enough.

Lisette gave a small quirk of a smile, though it was still partly obscured. Vampirism and its effects on finding people's throats gourmet cuisine, Vicente was certainly one of her favorite people in the Sanctuary, if only because he had a vast knowledge of various topics and a talent for rhetoric when he wasn't sorting out outrageous amounts of paperwork with eerie precision.

"Well, it was difficult to overcome, but I believe I can find it within my heart to forgive you, Vicente."

"Wonderful." the vampire said, displaying a spectacular set of teeth that would be unnerving if Lisette wasn't already expecting this. "In any case, I will be escorting you to the Imperial City. It will be best to get going in the evening and you are still too frail to defend yourself."

Defense wasn't nearly the thing she was best at; actually, Lisette didn't really think that combat was her strength in any way; not even magical combat. "We would wait forever if that was what I needed." she muttered with fake bravado, hoping to drain some of the seriousness and thus pessimistic undertone from their conversation. However, Vicente gave her a studious look.

"Do not dismiss your own skills, be it even on the battlefield." He was aware of how she had handled the Necromancers that had attacked her during her previous encounter with Lucien, as he had received a full report on her capability, combat included. A person inept at Destruction or at least rudimentary battle magic wouldn't have survived.

"I have none." Lisette said plainly. The Skingrad incident was one of those things she preferred to forget and that had become such a routine that she hadn't yet remembered it. Even if she had, she would likely dismiss it as luck and, more importantly, Lucien's very timely assistance.

"You are too quick to sell yourself short. Your magic has been fully restored. That alone is saying something." Vicente pointed out. Ambition; that was what the girl lacked. She was one big bundle of insecurity when it came to her own talents and that was what caused her to believe she was not able to handle something. "And at times, that is enough. Are you saying you don't know how to use the Blade of Woe if needed?" he asked, glancing at the dagger, which now hung freely from Lisette's belt.

"I do, just… I don't think it would do me much good against bandits or the like if I was to run out of magic in a skirmish."

The vampire surveyed her critically, and one look was enough. "You have had no weapons training." And it wasn't a question, but a very precise observation.

"None whatsoever." Lisette confirmed, mustering a shaky smile. She wasn't squeamish when it came to blood – after all, Restoration required the sight of blood at times – but that didn't mean she knew how to make wounds. She only knew how to seal them in needed.

"I see." And he actually did – Blanche's posture alone was enough to tell that. How she had managed to subdue Banus Alor's Silencer was a mystery, though possibly the result of desperation and terror. That combination usually brought the greatest strengths out of people. After all, Silencers were used to dealing with people with extensive martial training. "Well, when you next grace our halls with your presence, you will be given basic blade training. There is every need for it and it isn't charity, if that's what you believe." Vicente added upon seeing her squirm somewhat. Sithis help them the day they would be considered charitable to anyone. "You proved your worth and we are your family now, Blanche."

You help us (though under threat of being discredited and imprisoned or executed by your own people it might be) and we help you (to become more useful to us and protect yourself in order to help us). Quid pro quo.

"The Dark Charity." Lisette said, smiling now. Mara only knew how many would rather run than accept help from the assassin's guild. "I think you might use this as a method of assassination: scaring people to death with kindness." If she hadn't been prepared for it, she would have likely died of shock to find milk and cookies on her table, courtesy of Gogron.

Vicente, however, didn't find it that amusing. "Kindness is a matter of perspective. However, that will likely not come to pass for some time. I will ask Telaendril to come help you collect your things." he noted, heading for the door. We will leave in an hour and if things go well, you will be sleeping in your own bed in the morning."

Bewildered somewhat, Lisette found out that she couldn't focus on the wonderful book about mythical creatures she had found anymore. Instead, she decided to wander around the Sanctuary for a few moments, to see if there was anything she had not yet discovered that she might have a look at. She knew just how unlikely it was that she would be summoned here again – at least not anytime soon. And that was a shame, really.

Her priorities had obviously gone on a relaxing trip to Oblivion, most likely to sunbathe, being the bunch of crazed thoughts that they were. Three months ago, she would have proclaimed herself insane right then and there.

However, this was three months later and here she was Blanche, not Lisette Lemieux. She was beginning to realize that the former was not exactly a part she had to play, like a role in theater. On the contrary, they were one and the same, just living in different worlds.

Near the training room, she met Telaendril, the archer picking through her arrows and making certain they were sharp. She wasn't in the Sanctuary very often, either on stealth missions or on patrols, so the Bosmer lowered the quiver when Lisette passed by and pulled up a chair for her. This was an invitation for a chat as well, one which Lisette couldn't and didn't want to refuse.

"Dearest Cousin, good to see you up and about."

"Well, it also means that I'll be leaving soon." Lisette explained, finding the plain wooden chair strangely comfortable. That likely had something to do with being practically strapped to a bed for three odd weeks. "Actually, Vicente said he'd ask you to help me pack my things, but I don't think that's really necessary…"

However, Telaendril smiled and swung the black and silver quiver over her shoulder. Remarkably tall for a Bosmer, she looked even leaner and more Altmer-like when dressed in black armor. From what Lisette knew from the others, the archer was certainly ambitious enough to put many a High Elf to shame, despite being very likable.

"I would gladly help you. Between M'raaj Dar raiding the potion supply and Gogron raiding the kitchen, there isn't a moment of peace around here." She held out a hand for Lisette to help her get back to her feet, but the mage managed just that on her own. The Bosmer only smiled, as if this proved her capability for survival. "We should honestly get more Sisters for this Sanctuary." she noted almost nonchalantly as they were walking towards Vicente's chamber, where Lisette's things were still situated.

"Well, Speaker Portus is female." Lisette knew where this was going. She had been hearing the same from each of them; well, not every single one of them – M'raaj Dar would rather swallow his tail than admit that she was more than a pest that needed to be thrown out like a rabid dog – but the rest of them kept dropping constant subtle hints about how she could make much more… lucrative use of her talents at potion-mixing and magic.

"Yes, but usually, it's just Ocheeva and me, or just one of us. Ever since Maria died…" Telaendril's face was rather angular even when she didn't look momentarily like an icy statue, but this moment enhanced that look very much. It was intimidating, right up to the moment when she gave a small sigh. "Unfortunate, that."

The mage wasn't quite certain what to say to that. She had no idea about the circumstances of Maria's death or what she had signified to the people of the Sanctuary, so she settled for neutral condolences. "I heard about her. I'm sorry about it."

However, Telaendril wasn't a person to dwell too much on death. Elves were like that; and, apparently, those that worshipped the Void too. "She kneels by Sithis now, so perhaps it isn't entirely bad for her. However, you are the talk of the Family as always." The change of topic was deliberate, but Lisette wasn't able to tell if it was because they had touched a sensitive topic or because she was itching to start that debate.

"Perhaps I will one day be the mascot and not the puppet." At least she knew who was pulling her strings, unlike most of the puppets in the Imperial City. In that, she was fortunate, she supposed.

The Bosmer made a mild tsking sound. "Now, then, you shouldn't say such things. Most of us here come from a variety of backgrounds, not all of them pleasant. Not all of us have had the benefit of choice. I myself was first a target of the Brotherhood, then a member."

Lisette almost stopped in her tracks, turning to the Bosmer with a bewildered expression. "It can work that way?" she asked, genuinely curious. Selena had told her that there was only one way to recruit an assassin – in what seemed a lifetime ago – and now there seemed to be another way.

However, Telaendril's amused and slightly sharp look reminded Lisette of a shark humoring a dying fish, so perhaps she was about to be proved wrong yet again. "Well, if you eliminate the person who requests your termination, then the whole task becomes redundant, doesn't it?" she asked rhetorically, smiling broadly in a way that would have unnerved anyone who wouldn't be able to see the logic of her words. "It also counts as the first killing needed to be noticed by the Brotherhood, so Lucien had to give me the chance to meet with Aurelia."

It was strange that lower-rank members referred to their superiors by their first name, but Lisette attributed that to the whole concept of Family. In a way, it was endearing that even such a ruthless organization of assassins cared about the comfort and wellbeing of its members, both physical and mental.

But a different thing caught her attention.

"Lucien was sent to kill you?" Perhaps they had something in common there, whether Telaendril knew it or not.

"Yes." she said with a nod, misinterpreting Lisette's surprise. "We're a very tight-knit group here, so it was only natural that I ended up at the Sanctuary whose member had been tasked with my elimination. At times, we laugh about it nowadays." Telaendril smiled in a mildly faraway matter. The memory was clearly a fond one today, so Lisette decided not to ask about the details. "So you never know where you'll end up when the Dark Brotherhood is involved, especially if you are in a position as unique as yours." the Bosmer pointed out once she returned from her trip down the memory lane.

"Teleandril, I respect you and Vicente and everyone else here who has suggested that I try and join the Brotherhood, but I…" _I would get killed? I have an allergy to anything death-related? Really, _really_ wish the Dark Brotherhood had forever remained a simple boogeyman for children to me, an abstract fear?_ Liar…"I'm not cut for the kind of work you do. I'm sorry; I don't think I could stomach it. Besides, I like where I am with my career." Lisette added, sounding blind but convinced to the Bosmer's ears. She was remembering the Arcane University with fondness as she spoke. "And I don't think I could even try to kill a person before having a deep philosophical discussion with my conscience, which would, inevitably, result in my death at the hands of someone nearby. So thank you, but no."

The archer surprised her with another smile as they began gathering her things from the library, the potion storage room and Vicente's chamber, in that order.

"The ability to kill isn't in question, Blanche." Telaendril noted, inwardly quite certain that after the first few tries, the mage would learn to get used to it. Everyone did, because they had to. For now, let her live in her little world. "If you focus on your goal and believe yourself capable of reaching it, you can do anything. Anything at all."


	14. Ring

Everyone who loves a bit of humor and quasi-romance, this is for you.

**o.O.o**

**Ring**

**o.O.o**

True to Vicente's word, Lisette was back at the University the following morning. No one questioned her presence, though obviously, some were surprised to see her already there. The trees had undergone some changes over the course of the season, the only mark of the passage of time, which the mage had completely forgotten about. She didn't remember much of the midnight trip, only that it had been swift and dark and finally over. She had said farewell to the vampire at the university gates within hours of their departure from Cheydinhall (somehow, vampires defied every notion of science or magic she was accustomed to), when she was out of any danger. No guards had noticed them, despite her blue robes luminescent to her eyes in the darkness.

And, for the first time in a long time, it seemed normalcy was about to be restored. Getting used to waking up to the sight of sunlight was somewhat strange after those weeks spent in the dark and Lisette had to squint for the first hour of being up. Afterwards, it became more natural to her until she finally managed to look around without damaging her vision. That was one reason why she hadn't anticipated the bone-crushing bug Merete awarded her with after the Nord managed to locate her. Apparently, despite the busy schedule of a battlemage-in-training, both she and Iver had taken her prolonged absence rather badly, pestering Raminus Polus about her whereabouts on a daily basis.

Needless to say, the Master-Wizard was relieved to see Lisette back, to the point of actually not asking many questions about the surprising length of her time away. When asked by her friends or classmates, Lisette made good use of the general stereotype on Bretons and blamed it on extended family ties. Which wasn't nearly as far from the truth as one would think, of course. Merete seemed a bit apprehensive of this justification, but let it slide without much hassle.

The Breton resumed her work, got back in touch with her friends and returned to her life. Of course, this time, Lisette knew full well that this wasn't the last time she had interacted with any of the Dark Brotherhood members; considering how many of them she knew by now, she supposed it meant she had risen in their eyes to a level where they would likely entrust her with more difficult tasks. She felt a bit of pride at that, along with disappointment at her own foolishness at believing that she could so easily be implicated by them as a potential murderer.

However, whatever Lucien Lachance might claim, she was still very much a hostage; she had no doubt that no matter how _fond_ they might become of their _dearest Cousin_, her Family wouldn't have any qualms about eliminating her or getting her into the Imperial Prison for a lifetime if she tried anything. And, in the end, she decided that it would be useless to try; she didn't have the power to take such an organization down. Moreover, she discovered with a bit of fear that she had become rather fond of some of them, though she had steadily ignored their profession while staying at the Sanctuary.

As long as she pretended that they weren't murderers, every single one of them, she could coexist with them. And Lisette was becoming increasingly better at pretending.

Just like when, at long last, the expected courier from the Dark Brotherhood arrived, she almost managed to pretend that she wasn't incredibly surprised to see Lucien himself, not only as the courier but also entering through the front doors of the University like an honored guest, led inside by one of the battlemages, like they would with a particularly important outsider. And Lachance was certainly dressed for the part of a wealthy merchant or noble in expensive clothing and with the natural ease like a bard taking center stage in a tavern, with his dark velvets and soft leathers. The sight certainly made heads turn, male and female alike, some of both apparently somewhat disgruntled to see the rich stranger approach their resident bookworm.

When Lisette had been told that someone was waiting for her outside, she certainly hadn't expected this.

"Magister, good to see you again." Lucien said with a polite bow, his tone of voice the very image of respect. She hadn't seen him speak this way to even his Speaker, which meant that it clearly was an act. But without the sharp edge of sarcasm she was so used to hearing in his voice, all that was left was a dramatic tone; or what should have been that – clearly, he had tried his best to drain any kind of ominous feeling from his timbre. It was well-executed, but certainly not flawless.

Lisette herself wasn't anywhere near being an impeccable actress. "Lucien!" She came very close to stammering the greeting out. "What are…you…?"

"I'll take that as a compliment." the Silencer noted, somewhat dryly. Contrary to how a usual man's ego might swell upon being regarded in wide-eyed wonder by a young woman, Lachance didn't react to the situation in any such manner; in a way, he felt uncomfortably exposed among all of the mages around. It was far from a crowd, but there were several present, some of which seemed to be more than familiar with Blanche. But he was under orders.

"I-I was just… I'm a bit surprised here." Lisette managed to say, well-aware of looking foolish. That was a compliment, though, as anyone else would have looked like an utter fool in the same situation.

"Surprised to see me?" Lachance noted, mocking hurt with his tone. Perhaps, in the end, Speaker Portus had been right to have him handle the assignment in this way. It was certainly entertaining, though in a way that involved just the natural dose of fear. "And here I thought we were such good friends…"

Perhaps there were definitions of that word that still escaped her, Lisette thought, but she frowned when a possible reason for this sudden visit occurred to her. "Why have you come; does Vicente need more of the potion? I didn't leave instructions, I think."

"Must I have a reason for visiting you?" The Silencer sounded almost hurt that she would insinuate that his only reason for visiting it was work. This time, Lisette didn't buy it for a single second; work was the only reason why he would visit her and, judging by his rather carefree mood (if an assassin was ever carefree), she supposed that no one was in immediate danger of impending doom.

"You don't, but you do." Finally, her senses absorbed the surprise and she managed to relax. This wasn't a private audience. She had to be the self-assured mage in her home environment, she told herself. And so she acted that part, being the mage in her home, but to those who knew her, it would have been clear she was anything but self-assured at the moment. Lisette didn't like surprises. "So, to what do I owe the unexpected… honor?"

"Your work has been taken notice of by some of the higher-ranking members, so you are likely to be subjected to this honor more frequently."

"You are now important among the Family and don't try convincing me otherwise – I asked Vicente and he more or less confirmed it." They were walking through the courtyard now, trying to make it all seem like a natural encounter. Certainly they made an odd pair; the _nobleman _in his high-born attire and the mage in her simple but pristine robes. This was the time when they had to remain discreet and play with words so that curious ears all around them wouldn't pick up anything that wasn't meant for them. "Why are you acting the courier now?"

The Silencer quirked a somewhat cocky half-smirk that wasn't entirely becoming, but Lisette didn't see it. "Perhaps I simply enjoy visiting the one person who would think of subduing me with a kiss." he mused idly.

Strangely, though, Lisette reacted quickly; it might have something to do with the fact that the so-called kiss of death seemed to be a regular jab between the two of them by now. "Perhaps you didn't think that I would one day learn a ranged paralysis spell. Doesn't a high-ranked man like you have more important people to _visit_ for business purposes?"

Before Lisette knew it, they were headed in the general direction of the Mystic Archives. She would have to excuse herself to Tar-Meena for today. They would likely be talking about a report or a task, which required privacy, and Lisette really wanted to return her book first, because chances were she wouldn't get the opportunity soon after.

"I do, but that hardly matters." With arms folded behind his back, Lucien glanced around the courtyard with idle interest. The opportunity to walk right into the Arcane University (through the front doors, no less) was a rare one, even for someone of his status. "If too many couriers come visit you, you might catch the eye of people we'd rather remain blind."

"I see." Lisette said, after just a moment of hesitation. She supposed that was reasonable, but she had become somewhat fond of Swift-Flyer, whom she hadn't seen for some time. "Any particular reason why you got sent?"

"This is confidential information, beyond common couriers to see or know." Out of a hidden pocket of his coat, the Silencer drew a scroll with the seal of the Black Hand and handed it to Lisette. "Read it carefully and burn it once finished with it."

Lisette blinked, accepting the scroll with some bewilderment. She had been just about to put it away for safekeeping."Now?"

There was no one within close range and he was there to keep it that way, though it took a pointed glance to remind her of that. "Within the year, if you please. I need to bring back some kind of message."

Lisette obliged, unfolding the parchment and reading through it. She didn't recognize the handwriting at all – the signature was at odds with it – but she could read the slanted script with ease. It was written in a polite manner, though she could tell that it was more of a command than a request (though it was ambiguous from the way it was phrased). In a condensed summary, it was a simple order: creating a potion or serum that would serve for purposes of interrogation. An elixir of truth.

It seemed so much simpler on paper than it would be in reality. Somehow, Lisette realized that she wasn't acting all that natural, with the way she stiffened and gradually began slowing down until she stopped for a moment. Silence was suspicious. Especially if it stemmed from bad news. Glancing at the signature, she began talking about the first thing that came to her mind.

"So how is, ah, Aurelia?"

"As well as can be expected for a bureaucrat." Lucien noted easily, giving the slightest shrug as if to signify that he didn't care much, but it obviously wasn't too well. "Desk jobs are always so tedious… I do not envy her much. I prefer my own job."

"That's understandable." Lisette nodded, carefully folding the note and pocketing it. She would really have to burn it later on; just throwing it away would be highly irresponsible.

"You have no deadline for the project this time; it should be a nice change, no?" Lucien seemed to consider that a reward which entitled him to give her more difficult tasks.

"I suppose." the mage noted slowly. It was a challenge. She couldn't back down from a challenge when alchemy was concerned and that alone was enough for her to know that this was something that would interest her. "You can tell your superiors that I will look into this. If you come check back in a few weeks…"

"Lizzie, is that you?"

The Magician froze, hearing a voice she hadn't heard for months coming from several dozen feet behind her. It was an unforgettable sound and if it were anyone else, she would have likely rejoiced. But the voice of her previous superior – actually, still superior, as Wizards were ranked higher than Magicians – at the current moment was the last thing she wanted to hear.

Lisette turned around slowly, as there was almost no way she could hide at the current moment when they were apart from the crowds. And perhaps this confrontation wasn't really evitable, as the Wizard was known for being persistent when she was interested in something. Bracing herself for the horrible experience of embarrassment that awaited her, Lisette turned around, coming face to face with…

"Jeanne." the Magician greeted uneasily. Jeanne Frasoric, clad in one of her best dresses, had obviously just left a group of high-ranked mages, including Raminus Polus, just because she believed she had spotted someone she knew. "How… how nice… to see you here." Lisette noted, glancing at Lucien helplessly to ask him to endure this.

The Silencer studied the approaching woman and felt a twinge of amusement at how clearly uncomfortable Blanche was and a greater feeling of annoyance upon hearing the woman – Jeanne – give a sound of excitement that was in no way pleasant. Wearing an elaborate hairstyle and with the obvious air of a socialite around her, she was the polar opposite of the other Breton, even being dark where she was fair.

"It is you, Lizzie!" Jeanne said happily, approaching with a bounce to her step. Lisette winced; of course Lucien knew her name, but she had always hated that ridiculous nickname and hoped that it would stay within the confines of the Bruma Guildhall. Obviously, luck wasn't on her side today. At least Jeanne didn't hug her. "I almost didn't recognize you in those clothes – and you've grown out your hair, I see and… oh, I seem to be interrupting your conversation with this gentleman." Jeanne finally noticed that Lisette wasn't alone and peered at the Silencer with interest, oblivious to his true identity. Shallowness was a helpful trait in people that had to be fooled. "Do forgive that, mister…?"

"Lachance. Lucien Lachance." The Silencer didn't offer his hand, but gave a polite (or mocking, if Lisette perceived it correctly) half-bow to Jeanne, the very picture of good manners. He also didn't seem to mind this sudden and embarrassing diversion, or perhaps he just enjoyed watching Lisette squirm. And squirm she did, because there were so many things that could simply go wrong with this moment.

"Charmed, I'm certain. I am Jeanne Frasoric, Lisette's former teacher from Bruma." Jeanne gave a grateful simper, obviously speaking the truth in this manner. She seemed to be stuck between giggling and beaming with foolish pride at her "protégé". "Of course, we all knew she'd make her way to the Arcane University one day, talent like hers…" With a pleased smile, she patted Lisette's shoulder in what she clearly thought was a motherly way. The younger mage looked like she would like nothing more than to sink into the ground and never, ever surface from it again.

"Jeanne." Finally, she willed herself to speak, glancing at the woman she hadn't seen for months and months. Certainly this wasn't the time for a reunion; besides, Jeanne had no idea how near death she was currently standing. "Did you need something from me? We were in the middle of a serious-"

"Oh! I didn't realize!" Jeanne covered her mouth with her hand, excitement in her eyes. Neither Lisette nor Lucien knew what was going on, but the moment they glanced at one another quizzically seemed to be all the proof Jeanne needed to clap her hands with glee. "But of course; I should have guessed!" She seemed utterly touched when she took Lisette's hands, much to the younger woman's discomfort. "My Lizzie, all grown up like this! Now, young man, I hope your intentions with this girl are entirely serious, lest you would wish to answer to me." she added to Lucien, wagging a mockingly reproachful finger at the Silencer, though she seemed to be on the edge of winking as if to say the secret was safe with her

Lisette would have welcomed death at that point. Really. And the fact that Lucien seemed to find this little show highly entertaining only heightened that sentiment. "I dare say my intentions with Miss Lemieux are _very_ serious."

"Wonderful, then!" Jeanne exclaimed, turning to the Magician like a satisfied matchmaker. "Lizzie, you simply must come and visit us once you have the time – everyone is very curious about you, you know." she added, though she didn't give any further useful information about the others – about the only useful thing she could have given Lisette. Of course, Jeanne being Jeanne, she had only fulfilled expectations. "At least I know you're in good hands here." she continued, beaming at the slightly bemused Lucien.

"I will try to write if I have the time, but my research is keeping me busy." Lisette stammered out, taking a few steps back before Jeanne had a chance to hug her or something equally horrid, which would only complete this utter disaster. She was relieved to see that it likely wasn't going to happen, as Jeanne was almost bouncing on the tips of her toes from her rather inferior height.

"Of course, of course." she said easily, waving at the pair of them. "It was wonderful to meet you, Mr. Lachance! Toodles, Lizzie!" And she flounced off to an uneasy-looking Raminus Polus (at least, uneasy-looking once he noticed that Jeanne was returning to him) and several other mages who seemed to be quite adamant in trying to figure out reasons why they had to go, _now_.

Lucien certainly hadn't seen someone turn so many shades of green, red and white in an odd mixture of colors within a few short moments the way Blanche did once Jeanne had turned her back to them. it was a strange sight indeed; the foolish woman had actually come up with an ideal cover for the both of them. It would be much easier to meet and deliver messages if everyone who saw them together by chance assumed that they were indeed lovers or something more serious in the eyes of these stuffed-up fools.

Nevertheless, it made Blanche obviously uncomfortable, which served no one's purpose. People manipulated by their emotions made mistakes and the Dark Brotherhood couldn't and wouldn't risk anyone to save her if she was discovered by chance. Considering that she was so useful and helpful – and that he was somewhat fond of her in general, which was more than he could say for most of the other outsiders he was required to interact with – Lucien decided to speak first to lessen her obvious humiliation.

"Moments like this make me wonder if you have such a deep natural talent or if only the mages in faraway guildhalls have lower standards." Jeanne was far out of earshot as he said this, though she was still visible in the distance. But just as the last word left Lucien's lips, she turned around and gave the two of them one last supposedly encouraging wave. Lisette was sufficiently paranoid to feel jittery at that point.

"I'm sorry about that – she's the last person I expected to show up here, of all places." she stammered, almost running away from where they had encountered Jeanne. If she ever talked to Jeanne again, it would be far too soon. And she certainly never would be able to look the Breton in the eye after that assumption she had made.

"You are hopeless, Blanche; apologizing for something beyond your control." Lisette blinked, her face returning to its usual near-pasty white. "As long as you make that potion, I'm willing to endure another encounter with your self-proclaimed mother hen." the Silencer proclaimed, albeit somewhat reluctantly. He wasn't very keen on making promises that perhaps required keeping, even if this one was for good reasons.

But it was a lie in more ways than one and even though she could spot only one of them, it was enough to be able to call it a lie. "You have no choice but to endure it."

"Only if she is present at the moment of our meeting, which will be more carefully selected." Lucien noted, giving her the same half-bow he had given Jeanne, only the mockery was taken out of the gesture. Or perhaps it was just more carefully concealed. "Good day to you, magister."

**o.O.o**

About two months later, Lisette was still no closer to finding the correct concoction than she had been when she had received the task. Not much of interest happened besides the regular visits courtesy of Lucien; she remained in the Imperial City, working on her research and then brewing the requested potion in her free time. At times, Lachance would be courteous enough to tell her some news regarding the Sanctuary. However, this information came scarcely, which was understandable, as it seemed that now, Lucien mostly worked alone, being an elite operative of the Dark Brotherhood.

The title of Silencer rang truer than it might seem at first glance. There were long periods when they didn't meet at all, despite having an appointed time and place, which usually meant an unexpected assignment. As time passed, Lisette stopped thinking about how at least one life was ended each time something like that happened; most of the time, she hoped that Lucien would come back without problems. It wasn't the kind of concern that stemmed from any actual feelings, but she had become used to him as a regular part of her life, as it had been with the Bruma part of the guild, even Jeanne.

Changing that would be… odd.

It was almost night when Merete barged into her room unexpectedly. Lisette was mixing potions again and didn't even look up from her work upon this intrusion – Merete and Nords in general weren't known for their good manners – as the battlemage, still in her practice gear, practically kicked the door to make it close and rush past the small alchemy lab

Without waiting for any real invitation, she threw herself on the nearest chair and fixed Lisette with an intense stare. "All right, Miss High and Mighty, spill the beans." she commanded unblinkingly, waiting in rapt attention.

"Beans?" Lisette blinked from her alchemy table, somewhat confused. She didn't have any beans among her ingredients, as far as she knew. Maybe she had lost some, though. "What beans?"

The Nord rolled her eyes, but she didn't budge. Nor did she explain what beans she meant, which was actually irritating. "You always seem to be in lalaland nowadays, drifting away into dreams. And that happens even when you work. Our example of a precise magister wouldn't be like that without reason." Merete said knowledgeably, obviously hiding a vicious grin. But when she leaned forward with her determination obvious, she couldn't help but look giddy as a teenager. "Who is he?"

"Who is who?" Lisette asked, pouring some more ingredients into the vial. Still not purple; it remained a strange shade of grayish blue. Definitely not the shade she needed.

"The mystery man you are seeing!" Merete gushed out. It wasn't clear if she simply couldn't contain herself or if she couldn't believe that Lisette didn't get the obvious. Probably a little bit of both. "You have been like this ever since that surprisingly long trip a few weeks ago. I know you don't have family in Cyrodiil; you told me so yourself. And I happened to hear some rumors about you having a visitor that I regrettably managed to miss. I don't think you can just deny all that!"

Lisette still didn't turn from her alchemy. Rumors and gossip weren't unusual at the University, but still, that someone found the time to make some about her just showed how powerful gossip was. Also, the bored children of rich people who were sent to the University because of their wealth happily spread falsehoods just to spice up their monotonous days.

"You can hardly put stock to the things you hear around the university. Last time, I heard that Boderi Farano and Delmar… well… but Delmar is a Dunmer, s that kind of thing is normal, I guess.." she noted without missing a beat as she sprinkled her scales with red powder – further ingredients that she needed to turn the potion purple and thus hopefully what it was supposed to be. Hopefully. She really didn't fancy starting over just because of a small mishap. She had all the ingredients, didn't she?

But Merete meant business; seeing that she was getting no answers here, she snatched the vial with the red powder from Lisette's hands. At least she got the Breton to look up (though, admittedly, she looked rather weary). "No sense beating around the bush, Blanche; Iver saw you with a man he described as a well-dressed gentlemanly-type. And when he says things like that, it means the guy looked really high-born. That means proof. Now," Sitting back, she folded her arms, although she kept the vial close and out of Lisette's reach. "Tell me everything."

Ah, so that was what all this was about. She had almost forgotten – or entirely forgotten about this. The Dark Brotherhood was such a regular occurrence in her life by now that she didn't really consider it an oddity to meet with one of its members. Though now that she thought about it, the fact that it was Lucien – repeatedly – who came to visit, so to speak, was likely just a tad eye-catching in an environment such as this. And Lisette had always been the model mage and she had risen to relative prominence so quickly… it didn't sit that well with the less-than-respectable classmates she had.

So perhaps it wasn't that far-fetched for even Merete to suppose such a thing, though she couldn't think of a single moment when any indication of anything of the sort had been given by either of them. it just came to show how powerful the devious side of imagination was.

"Merete, you are imagining things." Lisette began patiently, checking a book just in case she had missed something crucial. Puce of this particular shade wasn't purple, not by a long shot. The potion was still missing something. "He is an acquaintance I speak with from time to time, hardly what I would consider someone I am supposedly seeing."

"A-_ha_!" The Nord raised an accusatory finger with an obvious feeling of triumph. "So there _is_ a man!" She hadn't actually believed Iver on this, but hearing it from Lisette herself was the last reassurance she needed. There _was_ an actual man involved, not just some wild figment of Iver's wild imagination. That was just so great; to know that Lisette had finally found someone. "So what's the status? Brief fling? Secret lovers? Passionate proposal?"

"Merete…" Lisette almost groaned.

The Nord took this as encouragement, much to her chagrin. "Now I'm getting interested in hearing this story."

"Am I interrupting?"

The scales Lisette was working with shook a bit, but she managed to catch them before her potion ingredients had a chance to mix and create a complete and utter mess. In the doorway stood Lucien, covered in a dark cloak – neither of the mages had noticed that a storm or at least a shower had begun outside – looking somewhat disgruntled to see another person in the room when they had an appointment. However, the truth was that said appointment had been about six hours ago and, as he wasn't anything but precise, Lisette had assumed that he wasn't coming today.

"Blanche. Magister." he greeted them, nodding to the unfamiliar Nord who seemed right at home in Lisette's chambers. A close friend, perhaps? All the more a nuisance.

"Lucien…" Glancing at Merete, Lisette knew more than certainly that being called by her nickname by a strange man in what seemed to be expensive clothing did nothing to help her attempts to persuade the Nord that she wasn't seeing anyone. Merete obviously wasn't going to believe that after this. "I wasn't expecting you today."

"Just coming to check upon your progress." And a progress report certainly couldn't be given in the presence of an outsider, trusted or not. No one could know who Lisette represented at the University. No one. "Might we speak?"

Before Lisette could say a word, Merete sprang to her feet with uncustomary (even eerie) merriness, reminding the Breton of Jeanne for a bizarre moment. "Oh, of course you can, go on, go! Don't mind me; I was supposed to be… elsewhere!" she blurted out, unable to come up with a decent answer. Quickly, she placed the vial she had taken back on the alchemy table. "Elsewhere entirely!" And, grinning ear to ear at Lisette, she dashed out of the room, presumably to celebrate this sudden turn of events. How loudly, the Breton didn't dare speculate.

There would be hell to pay later, though.

Lisette put down the ingredients she held in her hands and gave a deep sigh. "You realize that you are making my life hell and enjoying it, aren't you?" she lamented as she chopped up more mandrake roots for the potion. The Silencer had come for results and she had to provide those, miserable mood aside.

Lachance's eyebrows rose just a little, with measured precision. "I am?"

On this single occasion, he wasn't guilty of eavesdropping on her and the Nord, as the weather outside was miserable by then (meaning he wouldn't have heard much) and the fact that he had only just returned from a particularly undesirable assignment that had to be carried out quickly; he wasn't certain if anyone had followed him, but the Arcane University was the last place anyone would look for a potential assassin.

He would probably have to change residence, though.

"Gah!" Lisette finally snapped, stabbing her dagger into the part of the table where she was cutting her ingredients. Dejectedly, she sat down into the chair Merete had vacated. The Dark Brotherhood usually knew everything and this was very irritating. "You are making my friend come to the completely wrong conclusion about our relationship!"

"We have a relationship? I'm touched." Lachance noted, taking off his rain-soaked cape while Lisette glowered at him, at a loss for words. Out of reflex, she mumbled a heat charm into the nearby fireplace; it was actually pretty cold in the room, but she was used to such a climate from High Rock. The Province lived up to its namesake, after all.

"Merete has apparently concluded that you are my fiancé. You do _not_ want her to come to that conclusion." she added when the assassin gave a small amused chuckle at that notion. He obviously didn't understand just how serious this was. "Trust me on that."

"Well, you already have a ring, so I don't see the problem." Lucien checked the window, just in case, but it was carefully closed. He remained standing, as if in deference, though he was actually waiting for Blanche to get a hold of herself so that they could begin. When she kept giving the floor her best evil eye, he added: "It actually serves our purposes if your friend and everyone else thinks that."

Lisette raised her head, puzzled, letting out a clueless: "Huh?" –like sound.

"People see what they want to see." he continued, explaining the most obvious thing in the world to the girl. "They want to explain our _relationship_ and this seems the most logical explanation to them." Lucien stressed that particular word to annoy her a bit; an annoyed mage was always better than a dejected one – it gave her motivation. It worked only a bit."Thus we have no further reason to explain ourselves. It makes things easier for us both." he concluded with a light shrug. He didn't necessarily mind this, though it seemed to cause Lisette some degree of distress.

Momentarily, the wheels in her head seemed for freeze before she paled in her customary fashion and finally buried her face in her hands with a groan, letting out a single response: "Gah!"


	15. Shadow

**o.O.o**

**Shadow**

**o.O.o**

It went on like that for some time.

Visits, talks, research. Lisette got into the routine swiftly. There was only one scrap of news worth knowing from the Brotherhood– that there was some new member at the Cheydinhal Sanctuary, but she knew little of the person beyond that. Apparently, it was a woman, though whether this was to Telaendril's liking or not, she couldn't say. The Bosmer wasn't particularly opinionated in her letter. In any case, the mage was having trouble with a potion for what seemed to be the first time in eternity, something that irritated her no end, even more than the fact that Merete's knowledge of Lucien's existence led to some less than pleasant questions.

"I'm just trying to look out for you, kid." The Nord would remark whenever asked to please just drop the subject matter. "You're smart with books but scatterbrained with some other things. I want to make sure you're okay. Rich men are difficult to get along with."

The assumption of their being together that people made so easily, however logical, was frightening and a bit amusing. Talos help them if they knew who her mystery visitor actually was. Actually, Talos help them _not_ to find out.

There was a knock on her door in the afternoon; usually, she would have attributed this to Iver bringing her lunch if she had forgotten about this part of her daily routine. The man was sweet that way and she often helped him with theoretical coursework when he needed it. But this time, she could distinctly remember having eaten that day already. It was one of the newer apprentices, olive-robed and still proud in face.

"Magician Lemieux, you are needed in the lobby." the Imperial woman announced rather formally, but she seemed to be a bit anxious in a superior's presence.

Lisette, mixing potions as usual, gave a nod and started butting away her ingredients. "Of course; please tell Master-Wizard Polus that I will be there in a minute."

"You are mistaken; the one who is requesting your presence is Arch-Mage Traven." the Imperial corrected her.

Lisette froze mid-motion, looked up at the Imperial to see if she wasn't joking, learned that she wasn't, glanced back at her own robes and then the potion ingredients she had been measuring. This certainly wasn't the way to appear before the Arch-Mage. Quickly dismissing the apprentice, Lisette rummaged through her drawers and found the golden-embroidered red robe her servants back at High Rock had once given her, dusted it off and changed into it at a frantic pace. One didn't keep Hannibal Traven waiting for no reason, after all, so there was no time to do much more than quickly wash her face and comb through her hair with her fingers to keep it straight, framing her face.

Once she entered the lobby, she was directed upwards, to the teleporter by a smiling Raminus Polus. Her anxiety was mixed with excitement; there was no formal news of this being any kind of Council meeting. No; she was meeting with the Arch-Mage alone, like a Council member would. That alone was remarkable. Aside from the Council, virtually no one had access to these higher levels of the Tower n a regular base, much less was invited to go there by Council members. This had to be important – Lisette knew she wasn't due for advancement yet (though she hoped) and thus was racking her brains for a possible explanation.

She passed Irlav Jarol and Caranya, who seemed to be debating something – though the Altmer glanced at her with her cool eyes for a brief moment – and teleported further up to the very top of the tower and Traven's quarters. Lisette had never visited the place before and she had to admit that it was impressive.

It was everything a mage would want and more; among the many things there were books, potion ingredients and artifacts she hadn't yet seen before. All of it was so remarkable and wonderful that she found herself selfishly imagining what she would do if she were Arch-Mage. However, the current leader of their guild looked up from his desk with a curt smile and Lisette understood that she was here because he allowed it; and she was grateful for that.

"Ah, Magician."

"Arch-Mage." She gave a brief bow, though the respect in it was genuine. Lisette didn't know much about Traven personally, but that was currently irrelevant; what was important was that she was thankful. "You summoned me?"

"Indeed I did." There was an extra chair near the Arch-Mage's desk and Traven motioned towards it. Lisette sat down, still rather bewildered. "You seem surprised about this turn of events."

"I am, yes. I was expecting Master-Wizard Polus to have sent for me."

"Your steady progress in rank has altered that." Traven raised his eyes from the parchment he was writing on for a few moments, giving Lisette just the hint of a smile. She was glad for that; it likely meant that she wasn't in any kind of trouble and that whatever situation was happening wasn't too bad. "Raminus usually oversees the lower ranks. That and I have taken special notice of your abilities, as you will see when I tell you of the task I have chosen for you. It is of the gravest importance that this remains a carefully-concealed secret."

"The Mages Guild has my complete loyalty, Arch-Mage." How complete "complete" was, she didn't elaborate, because she wasn't clear about that herself – forced or not, the Dark Brotherhood demanded some of her loyalty, if not all of it.

"That is one of the main reasons I have chosen you for this. That, and how you proved yourself in Skingrad, of course." However, Lisette felt her heart sink a bit at this revelation. She had been enthusiastic about the previous assignment regarding extra duties and ended up almost getting killed. "Like the previous one, this task goes beyond your normal duties, Magician."

Lisette bit her lip; she almost didn't want to ask, but displaying anxiety in front of Traven certainly wasn't the best of ideas. "Does it concern the Necromancers once more, Arch-Mage?" she asked, her voice smaller than before. Not that it surprised her too much.

"Yes, but not in the way you might think." Traven admitted. He put away his quill and ink for the time being upon seeing her rather tense expression. Now was the time for honesty and perhaps honesty would be rewarded, for once. "After what we have learned from Count Hassildor, we began to take precautions against the threat of the Necromancers. Mucianus Alias, one of my trusted advisors, took upon himself the task of reporting to me from one of their sanctuaries."

After joiningthe Dark Brotherhood, so to speak, Lisette had supposed that nothing in the world would be able to surprise her. Obviously, she had been wrong. "We have spies on the inside?"

"Of course. Entering their cult isn't that hard." Traven noted wryly, with a hint of hardness in his rather grandfatherly face. For just a moment, Lisette understood why he was viewed to be an outspoken enemy of Necromancy. "Getting information through more so – however limited, though, it gave us a sense of the Necromancers´ scope and power. Recently, he hasn't been reporting in. I fear for his safety."

"Have we any reason to believe he is still alive?" Lisette didn't have much hope on that account. The chances of a missing spy surviving his mission in the middle of enemy territory was rather slight, especially if said enemy rather enjoyed working with corpses.

All of which suggested this wasn't a mission she would be comfortable with carrying out.

"No, but there is no need to believe that we have already lost the race against time." So Traven believed a rescue was viable. Or perhaps he was just fighting a battle with his conscience, desperately trying to convince himself of that truth. Lisette wasn't quite certain what to believe – or, more importantly, what role she was to play in this. "A contingent of battlemages has been sent to rescue Mucianus from Nenyond Twyll. That is the place where we heard from him last. But I cannot be certain of their success."

"If a contingent of battlemages cannot save him, I don't know how much help I can be." Lisette confessed. Her Destruction skills weren't bad, but they weren't extraordinary. Certainly not on a level to go rescuing anyone besides herself.

Traven leaned forward a bit, shifting on his chair. "You are a specialist in Restoration, Miss Lemieux. The battlemages have no medic among them and I cannot say in what condition Mucianus will be once they find him." he noted, dreading that mental image, obviously. "Besides, I worry for him. The battlemages may mistreat him; or worse, mistake him for one of their enemies. The frenzy of battle can do that to a mind. Yet I would like you to stay as removed from the battlemages as possible. I don't want to put you in more danger than necessary."

This wasn't a question, though, and Lisette saw it – there was no refusing this assignment. Which left only one question, really. "And if it comes to the worst, sir?"

Traven was silent for a long moment, but gave her a kind look. "Then I am confident that you will surprise them all as you did before." he noted softly and Lisette understood herself to be dismissed.

**o.O.o**

By the time Lisette got even the vaguest idea of what she could do, she had been pacing in her chamber for at least an hour.

This was different from the previous assignment that required stealth and possibly killing; now, she had to go there in person this wasn't something she could leave to her… contacts and there would be other people present… other mages, some of them perhaps familiar to her.

No, there was no way she could send the Dark Brotherhood to deal with this in her stead. And, Lisette frowned, she didn't want to depend on them like this. She wasn't entirely helpless herself and this time, there would be a contingent of battle-trained Destruction experts at her side.

But she _had_ come to depend on the Dark Brotherhood, she realized, though with some degree of shame. She couldn't possibly think of going to the Ayleid ruin on her own and she didn't want to bring anyone with her… so there was only one solution, really, a solution she didn't necessarily like, but understood as the best thing. The thought of asking this of her friends at the Mages Guild seemed somewhat more alien to her than requesting this of those she had met at the Sanctuary, so…

Lisette didn't want to wait for Lucien. No; even if she waited, nothing would come of giving him the letter. He was too high up the food chain to play courier for anyone besides his immediate superiors and would likely want to know what letter he was carrying. And the other couriers didn't visit her anymore, now that it seemed that a Silencer was temporarily stationed near her dwelling. No, no, she had to act, now.

Quickly, she wrote a letter addressed to both Ocheeva and Vicente – she couldn't be certain which of them would receive it in the end – the text coming out rather as a scribble. She didn't even know what she should write; the words just _came out_, pouring onto the paper. She told them about her task, about the Necromancers and… well, she didn't beg for help, but she asked for any possible advice they could give her. Not regarding Necromancy, but about how she should handle this. Their years of experience with these things outnumbered hers greatly.

She couldn't leave the University herself, else the messenger wouldn't be able to find her and she didn't have anyone else to send. However, her skill in Conjuration had improved since the last time she had last needed the Brotherhood's help. Taking care to seal the door and windows, Lisette cleared a space in her study for the summoning. Simple creatures couldn't be trusted for this kind of task; she required something that could think, act for itself and defend itself. To the best of her knowledge, this involved a sentient creature and there was only one kind she knew how to summon quite easily.

It took only several well-chosen arcane words and a motion of her hand, though Lisette prepared herself for the possibility of the plan backfiring. But it didn't; within a few seconds, a shape materialized in front of her, slowly taking form and substance, creating a tall figure in intricate red and black armor of jagged metal. It brought the scent of fire and brimstone with it; a trademark of the plane of Oblivion from which it had been summoned. The Dremora's eyes flared up as they darted into Lisette, but no move to attack was made. The magic binding him was strong.

Lisette didn't have the time to consider even being afraid; she had pressing business to attend to. Even a Dremora in her office, which was certainly a first time, didn't have the power to intimidate her at the current moment. She needed speed and someone to rely on. Later, she would perhaps wonder what possessed her to put her trust into such a creature.

"What is your name, Kinreeve?" she asked, facing the Daedra without the rightly justified fear a wise person would possess in front of a minion of the most vicious of Oblivion's Princes.

"Karrghed… _mistress_." the Dremora hissed, accenting the second word hatefully. He struggled against the binding spell only briefly before realizing the futility of it and submitted. The physical frailty of the mage didn't match her arcane powers, which was what saved her.

Lisette produced the now-sealed scroll and handed it to the Dremora without hesitation. "You will deliver this letter to the Argonian Ocheeva or the Breton Vicente Valtieri in Cheydinhal." she commanded, adding a few instructions as to where to find them. "Proceed with the utmost haste and deliver it to one of them and only to one of them. Say Blanche sends you if needed. After that, return and inform me of your progress. Now hurry!" Her voice was slightly strained by then.

Only once the Dremora vanished did she feel as if she had been released from the grip of an icy hand. She was actually afraid of this; not of the Dremora, or the Brotherhood, but the fact that she might face this alone, only with the battlemages… and somehow, she didn't trust them to get the job done. Or perhaps it was a more selfish reason; perhaps she simply didn't trust them to protect _her_. After all, she felt no obligation to this Mucianus Alias she was to heal; the worst case scenario was that she would flee and tell Traven that he was dead.

But… she didn't _want_ that to happen. Failure was… displeasing. She didn't want to fail.

"Lisette, are you all right?" Merete appeared in half an hour and found her pacing. The Nord only used her actual first name when something serious was going on; clearly seeing her pace like this was cause enough to be unnerved.

Lisette forced a weak smile. She didn't know how much of her task she could entrust to even her best friend here, especially since Traven had been very unspecific on that account. Shrugging the worry off wasn't possible, though.

"I'm okay, Merete." She tried anyway, but the Nord knew her far too well.

"You don't pace around unless you have a twenty page presentation to make in front of a larger group. Raminus bossing you around again?"

"Sort of." Lisette allowed herself a sigh. The more she denied things, the more inquisitive the Nord got. "I sent a letter to Lachance for help-"

"Lachance? Is that the mysterious family you went to visit? The family that shows up to visit you regularly, looking all tall, dark and rich?" Cheeky, Lisette could handle, even if Merete got rather annoying when at this stage.

Still, she flushed a little, frustrated by going down this path for the thousandth time. Merete never dropped the manner and never would. "Yes, him. I'm waiting for a reply."

"Well, I doubt the mail will come quicker if you pace around." Merete laughed. "Seriously though, when your mysterious stranger comes next time, do be courteous enough to introduce me and maybe Iver too. I can't cover for you very well if I don't know when you plan to disappear next time."

Instinctively, the Breton almost reached for her neck, dropping her hand until she realized the reflexive reaction and caught it. These days, Vicente was closer to the forefront of her mind, despite the more regular presence of Lachance. The vampire had defied all her expectations about such a creature and the kind of person that might regain and keep their mind even while affected by such a deadly disease.

The others, she remembered fondly as well, and it was their help and support she was relying on now. She was oddly fortunate in being on bad terms with the mage of the sanctuary; the skills the Khajiit could have provided she could manage herself. Ocheeva, being the de facto leader of the Sanctuary, wrote to Lisette at times and mentioned a few apologies and explanations for M'raaj Dar's behavior. Apparently, their mage had trouble with mixing potions due to how his race's paws were structured and believed that this was the only reason they had suffered an "intruder" to take over his job. The promise of weapon training for Lisette had only enforced that thought.

Nothing personal, of course. Lisette didn't really think it was entirely the case, but she let it be. She had been unsettled by the initial friendly behavior; the Khajiit had represented something expected, at least.

This was also why she couldn't ask Merete and Iver for help – they had other duties. The Battlemages didn't have any obligation to _her_, but the Brotherhood did. The Brotherhood would protect her because it was in its best interest. If it was a matter of choice…

Lisette tried not to pace around her office too much, but when she tried to go do some work at the Mystic Archives, she found herself distracted. Eventually, she decided to read a bit more on Necromancers from the literature she had access to – quite an extensive selection, to be certain – but she only ended up feeling sick upon learning about some of their beliefs. She returned to her room, then, receiving a sympathetic nod from Tar-Meena (who saw the rather greenish tinge to her complexion while she read about Worm Thrall creation).

And then, after ten minutes of lying on her bed and trying to stop her stomach from doing the tango with the rest of her intestines, there was a flash of fire above her and a slightly charred piece of parchment dropped onto her lap. The Dremora she had summoned didn't reappear, so she blew on the parchment a bit before deciding it was now cold enough to be held. It contained a single word.

_Wait._

**o.O.o**

It was common knowledge at the Arcane University now that Lisette Lemieux often received visitors, most commonly of the relatively strange kind. However, the pair of people that were admitted early the next morning was certainly the strangest visit she had ever entertained, at least as far as the battlemage on guard duty knew.

Magician Lemieux herself was rather surprised by this very late – or early - hour of visitation and opened her door after putting on a bathrobe over her nightclothes. When she brushed her ash-colored hair out of her eyes and finally recognized the figures, she quickly thanked the battlemage and promptly shut the door in his face after ushering the pair inside. Her sleepiness was immediately shaken off – although that only served to make her acutely aware that she was greeting her guests in rather fluffy slippers and a bathrobe.

Nevertheless, Telaendril and Gogron – despite their "civilian" clothing, completely recognizable – were likely looking amused at her expression of immense relief and immeasurable gratitude; something she wouldn't be able to bring to life with words, no matter how she tried. Both of them were armed as far as their outdoor clothing allowed them and had bags that likely contained extra armor and ammo (in Telaendril's case) or just food. In Gogron's case, she rather didn't want to know

But they were _here_, _now_, both of them, looking as natural as they could in the surroundings that were at obvious odds with them, smiling – or grinning – at her bewildered state. While it would have irked her on any other day, at the current moment, Lisette was struggling with words to even say a simple thank you.

"I… I didn't even dare hope…" she managed to get out, keeping all impulses to physically express her gratitude in check. Instead, Gogron saved her the trouble by giving her a bone-breaking hug (though Telaendril managed to rescue her from it before any long-term damage could be sustained).

The Orc grinned at his partner rather apologetically, but he still didn't understand why she would be opposed to a light hug. "Thank Vicente – he arranged this. The ol' bloodsucker would have come himself, I bet, if he had the time to spare. Haven't seen him so fired up since I finished that job on Summerset Isle long ago…" he added rather musingly, messing Lisette's hair a bit from his superior height. In the end, it remembered more of a bird's nest than it would with a serious case of bed head.

Eventually, Telaendril managed to get him to stop and took relative control of the situation. "Quite." Just to be certain, she glanced at Gogron warningly once more before returning her attention to Lisette. "In any case, he sends his regards and hopes that you will make good on the promise of coming to visit."

So there was no further need to be afraid. Lisette felt a knot of nerves within her soul untangle; she would be safe. It had been almost too much to hope that the Brotherhood would send her a single person, but the fact that two of their best assassins with very different specializations were standing right in front of her right now… she felt that at the current moment, should Vicente appear out of nowhere, she wouldn't find it beneath her dignity to drop to her knees and bow to the very ground.

He had remembered. And he was willing to help her. Well, what was one to expect from someone such as him, with his impeccable politeness and courtesy? Nevertheless, Lisette felt a rush of immediate gratefulness and affection towards the vampire, who had so obviously put her needs before the true concerns of the Brotherhood by such a swift response.

"I thought he might have forgotten." she murmured to herself, but she was ever-so-happy that she had been proven wrong.

Gogron heard her as he sat down on the nearest chair that could hold his weight and let out a disbelieving snort. "Forgotten? Hah! You should have seen him go on about you! Tel and I have begun taking bets on whether your blood tastes that good or if you've actually gotten him to fall in love with you." he said, glancing at the Bosmer again.

"Gogron." Telaendril awarded him with a disapproving glance. This wasn't something she wanted to talk about in front of Lisette, because the mage might not take it as the somewhat humorous teasing it was mean to be, knowing so relatively little about all of them. "I think you just made a very good impression on him, dear." she said truthfully, encouragingly, before Lisette could pale or perhaps even understand what was going on. Right now, undermining her resolve was the last thing the mage needed.

Fortunately, Gogron seemed to take the hint, however subtle it may be. Telaendril rather attributed it to his eagerness to get on with the mission, though. "So!" he clapped his hands joyfully. "Necromancers, eh? No need for survivors, right?"

The mental image of it all threatened to enter Lisette's mind, s she used all of her power to push it away. Bodies and carnage weren't her thing – even though she dealt with injuries on a regular basis, the sight of blood still made her feel sick. Instead, she gave a wry half-smile, but Telaendril noticed her wince a bit. "Only the one we need to rescue."

"That's good." Gogron said approvingly. "Less fuss that way."

"It might be a good stress reliever for you, Gogron." Telaendril admitted, even though Lisette wasn't so certain about how good this idea might be. "Stop you from destroying the practice dummies all the time before Ocheeva gets tired of supplying them."

But Lisette wasn't really listening to the mundane details. She fidgeted a bit in her chair, which seemed to be enough to get an assassin's attention for a brief moment. Inconveniencing anyone wasn't her intention and only now did she realize just how much she might have upset their _schedule_ by calling on them in such a hasty manner. She had to ask this before the guilt overwhelmed her.

"You guys are okay with this then…?"

The archer fixed her with a pointed stare that silenced her effectively. It was an answer in itself, more so than her following words, even. "Cousin, we _volunteered_ for this. Besides, we were looking forward to seeing you again."

"Yeah, but I don't miss having a comatose vampire around." Gogron added, helping himself to some of the untouched wine she was going to use as an ingredient for a later experiment. At the present moment, Lisette didn't think much of it. "We have to haul paperwork around when he isn't sorting it out himself."

**o.O.o**

They left before the sun had fully risen.

Contrary to prediction, the journey wasn't all that long, though more than once Lisette felt the air in her lungs recede more rapidly than she had imagined. She certainly got worn out far more easily than her newfound companions. They weren't using horses for this trip – Gogron wouldn't have been able to ride well in all that armor and Telaendril preferred having her hands free to reach into her quiver, should the need arise. Thus they traveled on foot, though Lisette felt – with a bit of shame – that the assassins would have made the journey much faster on their own. Nevertheless, they didn't say a word about it to her, only showing kindness.

Mostly, they asked about Lucien; from what she found out, they hadn't seen him in a while and were beginning to miss him. Lisette was slightly surprised that the Silencer was such a popular figure in the Sanctuary, but then again, it should be no surprise to her, in the end. Telaendril told her the tale of their newest Sister, whom Lucien had apparently rescued from the gutter, so to speak. But she was a killer as well, despite her young age. Apparently, her name was Antoinetta and she was a Breton like Lisette, though her skill lay with a dagger, not with magic.

The way the Bosmer described her, she was perhaps a few years older than Lisette herself, though she seemed younger. And though her hair was cut short and a different shade of blonde – flaxen, while Lisette´s was ash (ash that was slowly turning to gold, with the help of the sun´s rays, though she didn't notice) – and her eyes were a different shape and color, some of the Brothers and Sisters apparently speculated if Antoinetta hadn't been saved because in _someone´s _eyes, she resembled their dearest Cousin… to a point.

Lisette found that slightly flattering, but also deeply ridiculous. There were dozens, hundreds, _thousands_ of Bretons. Facial features of the same kind weren't uncommon even in Cyrodiil. And if they were to see her in every Breton girl in the Province, they would be distracted indeed, the Brotherhood would.

But to them, she was still unique, because she was white to their darkness and she was _untouched_ even while in the circle of the children of Sithis. She carried herself in a way that showed no love for violence and both Telaendril and Gogron – everyone in the Sanctuary – were easily able to tell that she hadn't spilled a drop of blood without a higher purpose in her life. She had never ended another´s existence, for whatever reason. She was the virgin sacrifice on the altar to the void, but she embraced her position; a lesser mind would have likely broken before this moment. Now, they were going into the heart of the kingdom of _death_, yet she braved that path.

Somehow, Telaendril wondered if perhaps being a _captive_ of the Brotherhood wasn't the best thing that might have happened to Blanche. She didn't know the girl´s real name, but it seemed that each time they met, she was less the person she had been before and more Blanche, more the person she could be. Yet she remained true to her goals and to herself; she didn't even realize that, with the Brotherhood behind her, she could one day make it to the very top of her guild.

And she didn't see it. Perhaps it was for the best, though; perhaps that was the very reason why the Black Hand approved of her as their link in the Mages Guild. The trademark of the Dark Brotherhood was that they were a family in the truest sense of the word and that their members obeyed the rules of such a family. Including not putting oneself before the Family. Again, the Bosmer was forced to sigh at Blanche´s lack of any kind of lust for battle or will to kill. She could have found her place among the Family much more easily that way.

Nenyond Twyll was south of the Imperial City, near one of the many inns that were scattered across the province, but not close enough to attract too much attention for those who weren't interested in Ayleid lore. By the time the three of them managed to find their way to it, it was long past midday – soon, the evening star would show. Lisette knew well that it was mostly due to her own sluggish speed, but Traven hadn't given her a deadline, so why should she hurry?

In passing, she wondered how she would explain the presence of two strangers to the battlemages. It was possible they wouldn't care much and she could always say that they were mercenaries or bodyguards or whatever – she was rumored to be of wealthy stock, though she never flaunted whatever money she might or might not have – and disguises would have been rather redundant. There was just _something_ about all the members of the Dark Brotherhood that made it difficult to disguise their true nature from up close.

Gorgon almost kicked the door to the ruins open before Lisette quickly figured out how this was done properly. Save for the welkynd stones that lit parts of it and the holes that allowed sunlight to creep into the ruin – of which there weren't many – the place was dark and gloomy. The Orc entered first; if one didn't know in advance that anyone else was behind him, they wouldn't have seen them. Telaendril was last in case her skill with the bow could be useful, with Lisette in the middle; after all, it was her they were meant to protect on this journey.

Ever since they entered, though, Lisette had the feeling that the one making the most noise was her and not the heavily armored Orc; and she was supposed to be the lightest of them all. Well…

They weren't that far in before a small figure rushed towards them. Axe and bow rose to the air, taking aim and ready to strike, but the male Bosmer in what was obviously battlemage armor didn't make any move to attack them, only looked at them frantically, from one to the other, his eyes eventually resting on the smallest figure of the mage, seeing her attire.

"You aren't one of them!" It was more like an exhale of relief, a sigh, than the partly frightened, partly excited exclamation it was. Lisette nodded, though she was rather unsure about what he meant. "Mages Guild robes!" Oh, that. Her blue robes were easily recognizable, after all. "Did Traven send you?"

She didn't know this one by name, but Lisette was confident that it was one of the group that had been sent by the Arch-Mage. Telaendril and Gogron were watching her and the Bosmer carefully, obviously ready to take action against anyone, no matter on whose side the creature or person was. The Magician nodded quickly. "Yes, I'm to be the med-mage in case something goes wrong."

"Something already went wrong!" the Bosmer choked out, obviously angered and a little frightened – and even more angered at that. "I'm the only one left of the battlemages they sent!"

"Just you?" Lisette felt something cold in the pit of her stomach and it wasn't the damp and cold air. The place had to be very well fortified if this was the truth; she couldn't imagine Traven sending in less than a dozen of the battlemages. And if this was the only one that had survived…

But the Bosmer wasn't really listening any longer. For the first time, it seemed, he noticed – _truly_ noticed – the two figures behind Lisette, who were taking care to remain half a step behind her, their faces relatively obscured by the shadows of the place. They were too heavily armed to be mages and something in their eyes was more frightening than even the Necromancers.

"Who-who are they? They don't look like Mages…"

Fortunately, Telaendril was quick enough to save Lisette the need to answer that with a lie. "We're bodyguards for the Magician." she said, using the exact same idea Lisette had thought of a few seconds previously. Apparentl, the archer was a very quick thinker.

"Fighters! That's good! That's great!" the battlemage blabbered on, obviously relieved. He readily and happily assumed that they were Fighters Guild, it seemed, which wasn't at all objectionable to their current course of action. "The best news I've had since the Necromancers ambushed us!"

But they were wasting time and Lisette knew it. the time for explanations was past and meeting one of the battlemages might save them a whole lot of time. "What about Mucianus Alias?"

At the mention of his quarry, the Bosmer paled, but his angular face seemed very determined in the faint light. "They ambushed us! He might be dead already! We have to hurry!" and with that, he dashed off through the corridor, apparently leading the way.

"Hey, wait!" Lisette shouted, but felt Telaendril's gloved hand over her mouth. The archer shook her head slightly and Lisette understood, though it chilled her blood. They couldn't afford to be led to death by a screaming, stomping Bosmer who was half dead with fright. They had to remain at a distance.

"Idiot!" Gogron muttered, disgruntled by this. Even he knew better than to just take off like this, especially if they didn't want the mage killed before they got to him. "These are Ayleid ruins. There must be pressure-plates with traps here. Rushing in like this will get him killed."

Hearing that, Lisette and Telaendril exchanged glances, knowing what this meant – though concerned for different reasons – and immediately followed the battlemage, Gogron hot on their heels, just in time to hear the sickening crunch and the sound of blood sliding down the wall.


	16. Glass

**o.O.o**

**Glass**

**o.O.o**

"Ouch." Gogron commented, watching the pressure-activated platform drop back to the ground, covered in blood and the remains of the body it had just crushed. Nothing remained of the Bosmer save for a bloody pulp. It was a horrible but quick way to die, for certain. The probability of the Bosmer not even knowing he had died was very high in this case.

Lisette felt sick. She had seen corpses before, but this… this didn't even qualify as one. It was horrible.

But Telaendril and Gogron had seen much more gruesome things in their careers and were able to remain focused. The Bosmer crouched and examined the floor, pinpointing the possible booby traps with precision. "Hidden traps. Triggered by pressure, most likely." she added, throwing a stone at the nearest one. Immediately, it crushed the pebble to the ceiling.

"_Ouch_." Gogron repeated, glancing at the rubble.

"Can you jump it?" Telaendril asked, turning to a very pale Lisette. The mage was sickly pale, but she managed to gather her bearings. She was here to save a life and these two wouldn't let her die in the process.

"No. But I think I could try-AAAAIEEEEE!" Suddenly, she was in the air, a grip of steel on her robe and then, she dropped back on her feet, like a very scared cat might. Standing up and straightening up, she looked back at the assassins, her hands shaking. Gogron had hurled her past the pressure plate trap; literally hurled her past it. If she hadn't landed on her feet; if the distance wasn't just enough to survive…

"Great job distracting her, Tel!"

"Gogron, was that really necessary?"

The Orc rolled his eyes. "Well, I couldn't very well carry her if I had my axe with me – I could take her eye out by accident." he commented wisely, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Of _course_." Telaendril pursed her lips. "I suppose letting her finish that sentence would have prevented that."

"Now that you mention it…" the Orc trailed off, wondering what harm that might have done.

Telaendril only shook her head before returning her attention to the matter at hand. "Are you all right, Blanche?" she called to Lisette across the trap.

"I suppose…" Lisette muttered, flexing her toes in her shoe as she tried not to tough anything that looked suspicious or lean against a wall. Even with the welkynd stones and the magic lights around them, the place was still far from comfortable. "Can you guys get across?"

She almost didn't even see how they got past the trap – though in Gogron's case, the action was a bit slower – but in a moment, both of them were past the tiles and next to her, with Gogron leading the way down once again, ready to take the brunt of whatever they might encounter downstairs. Telaendril put her hand on Lisette's shoulder briefly, feeling the Breton tremble. The touch was in no way calming, but caused the Breton to remember herself and start walking again.

"Stay close." the Bosmer noted then, seeing the mage bob her blonde head in silent affirmative. "We move quietly from now on."

The lights dimmed the lower they descended. Perhaps the Necromancers had removed most of the illumination sources due to their own twisted preferences; perhaps the ruins simply wanted to remind them all that the structure was ancient, guarded and its occupants likely very irked by the sudden intrusion. They encountered a few Necromancers, dressed in their twisted robes and going about their daily business, but Telaendril always managed to take the lone ones down and if her arrows didn't suffice – and they almost always did – Gogron was more than happy to get to them and take them down in a less gentle fashion. Surprisingly, the giant Orc knew how to sneak; he just preferred not to do so.

Lisette didn't participate in any of the fighting; she knew better than to try. Destruction magic had a small disadvantage – most of it was generally loud. Very, very loud. And if that wasn't enough, then the person caught in the wave of the attack would certainly fulfill anyone's expectations in the sound department. It was better if she kept her spells rested for the time being.

Undead creatures began to surface; the true guardians of the tomb-like ruins. This time, the assassins began to cooperate. It was unlikely that the skeletons would raise the alarm, but they were also harder to destroy. Again, most fell to Gogron's axe with Telaendril keeping watch and Lisette keeping out of the way.

"Watch out!"

The mage dropped to the ground the moment the Bosmer tried to yank her out of the trajectory of a series of arrows sent forth by the skeletons they had ambushed. The arrows couldn't pierce Gogron's armor, though, and the Orc made short work of the guardians. However, the rumble attracted a Necromancer, who came to a halt in the entryway through which the trio had come. He took in the sight of the broken skeletons, took one glance at Gogron's axe and Telaendril's bow and made a run for it before the latter could shoot him.

The Bosmer swore under her breath. "This will have raised the alarm – you must hurry through that passage!" she called, already hearing the voices coming from the corridor. Immediately, she pulled Lisette to her feet and ushered her towards the exit where they had been heading. On her own, quietly, the mage would be able to make it while they acted as a diversion.

"What about you?" Lisette asked just as Gogron gruffly called: "Tel, we've got company!" while deflecting a fire spell with his axe and thus sending it ricocheting back at the Necromancer who had produced it. Suddenly, the question felt very redundant.

"The two of us can handle this easily." Telaendril assured her, looking back to see five Necromancers having a great deal of trouble with the Orc. "Actually, I think Gogron would handle it on his own, but I don't want our way out blocked. It should be safe now that they've gathered up here. Keep invisible and hurry back!"

Lisette took those words to heart – she muttered the strongest individual invisibility spell she knew and quietly proceeded down the next staircase. Her luck was immense; she managed to retreat into one of a set of alcoves just as a pair of Necromancers rushed past her, mumbling to themselves in anger and excitement. Telaendril's plan seemed to have worked, though it also meant that Mucianus Alias' life was in more danger than ever. Lisette didn't deceive herself that he would be unguarded, if he indeed was captive, but if it was up to three people guarding him, she could do this. Once she summoned up a Dremora to aid her, of course.

The endless corridors kept turning left and right and her soft steps seemed to echo like the drums of an army. It was very distracting, but Lisette couldn't afford to dawdle. She had come here to succeed. And though she worried for her companions, she also knew that they had a far better chance of surviving – oh, who was she kidding! She meant winning - without her than with her in the way. For them, twenty on two weren't fair odds for their opponents. They were trained to fight and kill, even the stealth-focused Telaendril. Together, they were likely invincible, as one covered the other's weaknesses.

She felt very useless compared to either of them.

A spell suddenly whooshed past her – she had been too distracted to notice it or the caster. But it did her no harm and it was a moment later that Lisette realized that her blue robes were once more visible to the plain eye; specifically, to the eyes of the woman who had cast the dispelling enchantment. She seemed to be a Breton, as far as Lisette could tell in the dark and older than her, with almost kindly features. But what struck her immediately was the fact that the woman wasn't wearing Worm Acolyte robes but a russet gown.

She wasn't firing Destruction spells either, at least not yet. Somehow, Lisette felt her heart leap. If she wasn't being attacked, it meant this was one of the battlemages that were said to have been killed. She would have to remember not to trust the words of a half-crazed Bosmer next time.

"Oh, you poor dear." the woman said, her eyes filled with an odd emotion as Lisette stood stock still. Something about her…was slightly off. "I'm afraid you've arrived late for the party. The guest of honor has already left." Lisette didn't understand any of this, but she instinctively felt herself tense. The more the woman spoke, the more she understood that she wasn't safe. "And I hate to disappoint you, but Mucianus is a Worm Thrall and quite content to remain so. Anyone who crosses the Order of the Worm meets a grim fate." The woman tilted her head in interest, watching Lisette with a wide smile. With each word, the venom in her voice intensified. "I will tell the Master you were looking for him. Perhaps bring your head as a souvenir."

She leapt back as the bolt of lightning Lisette had built up in her palm hit the spot where she had been standing. Immediately, a zombie was summoned to her side and the undead creature staggered towards Lisette, who stumbled back a few steps as the putrid stench of rotting death hit her. The zombie had no head, but seemed to know exactly where it was going; a mystery to be pondered later. Right now, she was more interested in keeping the thing away from her. The frost spell she sent at its legs to freeze it did no good. At the same time, the Necromancer fired a fire spell of her own at her.

Lisette felt the flame graze her robe, but she avoided the worst of it. Most of it was accidentally deflected by the zombie and it seemed to reel back in pain. Remembering all the limited information she had received on undead creatures in classes, Lisette tried her best to replicate the Enemies Explode fire spell and sent it towards the zombie, which caught on fire extremely easily and stumbled away from her, hitting the wall as it burned on.

A spell that Lisette wasn't able to deflect hit her, but she didn't feel any kind of effect as she turned to face the Necromancer before she could summon up another undead creature. The mage prepared her best shock spell and opened her mouth to speak… and no sound came out. Not even a strained gasp as she realized that she had been silenced.

The Necromancer gave a wicked grin, seeing that Lisette wasn't able to counter the effects of the spell without actually speaking. She was also unarmed, a fact in which the Necromancer took delight. It would take one good shock spell – she wanted to keep the body intact, after all – and she began rubbing her palms together as the static electricity started gathering.

Lisette kept backing away from the woman. She wasn't going to summon up another undead, obviously, as her former creation had vanished already. She was going to do the honors herself. And it would take several minutes until the silencing spell would wear off and she was free to cast. She also couldn't go back to Gogron and Telaendril, because she would get in the way and it would ruin their concentration.

She ducked as a bolt of lightning shot past her. This wasn't the time for being considerate! She had to go back.

Unfortunately, she stumbled and fell on her back on the stairs as the Necromancer advanced. Something fell from her robes and Lisette instinctively grabbed it in the dark just as the Necromancer stood right in front of her, a mad glint in her eyes. She felt something sting her fingers; it was the Blade of Woe.

It was a split-second decision which she would otherwise have pondered for very long. The Necromancer leaned down to her to minimize the fizzling of the spell and maximize its intensity… and Lisette grabbed the dagger and plunged it into her chest near the spot where she supposed the heart was. She didn't stop there, though. Quickly, to shove the woman away, she pulled the dagger out in a slashing motion that tore the muscles securing the woman's ribcage. Something warm and wet covered her hands for the first time in months – she remembered the feeling now – and the Necromancer slumped back and dropped to the ground like a rag doll.

In the light of the nearest lamp, Lisette could see liquid glittering on her hands and soaking into the front of her robe. It was likely her hair was also partly drenched, as the blood had gushed out so quickly…

On all fours, she scrambled towards the dead Necromancer and tried over and over again to summon up the strength for a restorative spell. But her voice was gone, silenced, and so she couldn't. She felt the blood drain from her face, as if she was the bleeding. And then, there was no pulse…

Lisette pushed herself away from the corpse on her hands and feet. There seemed to be a ringing sound in her ears, as if a siren was calling her. She seemed to be drowning, drowning in blood…

"Blanche! _Blanche!_"

The sound of her name seemed to be coming from far away until Lisette realized that she was being shaken by the shoulders – someone was with her, trying to pull her out of the sea of blood and darkness meant for people such as her… and she saw the corpse, but there was Gogron pushing it away with his foot, a rather impressed look on his face that made her sick and Telaendril sitting next to her, ignoring the blood, ignoring the corpse, ignoring the fact that she was drowning… trying to save her.

"What happened? Are you hurt?" the Bosmer demanded while Gogron slipped past them and entered the last part of the ruins.

The Blade of Woe, no longer untouched, had fallen from her trembling hands somewhere along the way. But they belonged together now, she and the knife, did they not? Murderers together… murderers forever.

"Oi, Tel!" Gogron was coming back from the final chamber, where he had put an end to the wretched existence of their quarry. There was truly nothing left for them in the ruin. "Only one really mutilated corpse here – I think we're good." He paused, glancing at Lisette with worry. "What's wrong with Cousin?"

Telaendril had already figured it out, though, seeing the knife, the corpse and the state Lisette was in. "First kill. Stabbing." she announced dispassionately after Gogron had displayed such lack of tact for the poor girl.

"Damn." Gogron muttered, wincing. The girl was the fragile sort – stabbing wasn't a particularly clean method of death. In fact, save for decapitation, it was one of the messier methods of a first kill. No wonder she was like that. "'s she gonna be all right?"

"Blanche, listen. _Look at me, _silly girl." Telaendril commanded, shaking her soundly. Lisette obeyed, but she kept trembling, as if she were shivering, even though the ruins were rather damp and warm. It was an understandable reaction. "Breathe. We're here."

"Tel, do something!" Gogron yelped as Lisette began to hyperventilate, tears streaming freely down her cheeks. Her entire countenance was the image of a silent scream, but no sound came out.

"She isn't choking; it's a Silencing spell… right?" Despite her state, the mage managed to nod. Inquiries about spells. Familiar grounds she could tread on, even though her mind was still occupied with… with… "That explains things."

"Can you dispel it somehow?"

"I'm no mage. But this one should wear off eventually. Nod or shake your head, Blanche." They were talking… so normally. As if nothing had happened. But perhaps they were talking so normally because they were the same as her, even though they likely hadn't drowned in the sea of blood yet… perhaps by going on, one kept on its surface without sinking. She did as she was asked. "There you go, it will wear off."

"The guy we came for…" Gogron grimaced, as if wincing and Telaendril immediately understood that that was something Lisette shouldn't see. "Well, if it was him, then I just put him out of his misery." he added on a more optimistic note. "I don't really think there's anything left for us here."

"For once, I agree. I think she's too shocked to even move. We should get her out of here before she starts recovering."

Surprisingly, Telaendril shooed Gogron away for a few moments and changed Lisette's blood-drenched clothes for parts of the leather armor she had brought with her, rather like one would do with a rag doll. Of course it didn't fit perfectly, but the top was all right and the lower half could be adjusted to the length of her legs. The Bosmer even wiped the mage's hands in the discarded robe before helping her to her feet. Then, she summoned Gogron with a well-placed yell and had the Orc carry her back through the ruins and past the traps.

"Blanche, can you speak now?" Telaendril asked once they were outside. The fresh air and lack of corpses seemed to help Lisette somewhat, though she was still feeling highly unwell.

Her voice also finally came back, though it sounded raspy to her ears when she spoke. "I-I think so. It wore off…is she… is she…?" Perhaps it had all been simply a bad dream…

"Are you hurt?" the Bosmer interjected, refusing to answer the question.

Lisette shook her head. "N-no, not that I'm aware of…"

"Good." Teleandril interrupted, looking her hard in the eyes. "That's all that matters."

"But-…"

"You or the Necromancer, Blanche." Teleandril said – and when it was put like that, even Lisette understood the choice, though she didn't think it justified it in any way. "For either of us, that's an easy choice. And so it should be with you. We are here to protect you at any cost, understand? Any cost."

"You don't understand…! I killed… I _killed _her…"

"That is a possibility you had to be ready for. You were very quick to think of the blade; most mages would have panicked and gotten themselves killed." Gogron grinned almost goofily. "We're proud of you."

Lisette almost winced. "That's twisted."

"It's the truth. Anyway, I think it's pretty clear your guy is long dead and we only put him out of his misery by doing what we did."

"I guess…" Lisette was on the road to recovery, but she still couldn't get rid of the sinking feeling in her stomach. Somehow… somehow, she didn't know what to do. She also didn't realize what was clear to Gogron and Telaendril both; that she had fulfilled the first requirement of joining the Dark Brotherhood. "I know."

"Good. We should be getting you back to the University, then." Telaendril proclaimed, and so they did.

It took them most of the night to get to the Imperial City; this time, Gogron carried Lisette all the way, as she really didn't trust her legs by that point. She was still feeling jittery and nauseous, but Telaendril kept drawing her into conversations about whatever she could think of and so by the time they reached the city gates, she had mostly calmed down. It was almost like a bad dream, really, so bad that Lisette couldn't believe that it was in fact the truth. Yet she was alive and the other two kept repeating that that was the only thing that mattered.

And what did it matter who did the deed or how it was done? In the end, one of them would have done it, so why did she feel so bad about it having to be her? She talked to assassins, met with them almost on a daily basis and they were people just like her, only… in a way, darker.

It had seemed like all the difference in the world, at one time.

The assassins insisted on seeing her to the University itself, possibly to her room, even, considering her state. But they barely got past the first few streets when Gogron knocked out a man that had been sneaking up on them. He wasn't dressed in Necromancer robes – who in their right mind would do so in the city? – but he had that same ashen and pale look to his complexion as the rest of them. Moreover, when they searched him, he truly turned out to be a one of the cult based on the few items he had with him. It was likely that he had spotted Lisette but couldn't be certain that she was the person he was looking for, as she wasn't wearing her robes anymore.

And it _was_ Lisette he had been searching for. Telaendril located a letter with a very detailed physical description of the mage, down to the Black Band she wore on her right ring finger. Aside from its purpose, of course.

"You saved me… again." she breathed out, a bit disturbed by this habbit.

"Yep." Gogron grinned victoriously. "You owe us a round of drinks now, Cousin."

"This wasn't a random encounter." Telaendril noted as she continued rummaging through his pockets. "Someone is targeting you."

"There are many University scholars around these days." Lisette said, not really believing her own easy dismissal. The letter hadn't mentioned her by name, but it certainly was an apt and careful description.

But Telaendril wasn't convinced. The description, the pursuit… "No, this was a specific assassination. The man knew what move you were going to make first." she said, pointing out the poisoned darts he had with him. He was obviously ready to make a ranged attack first. "Research, obviously."

"What's this?" Lisette asked, picking up another letter. She read through it quickly, but it was the signature that was so eye-catching.

It was an order of extermination – literally. The target, whose daily routine was described in great detail, was her. And it was signed by Caranya, the very Caranya who was the most important of Traven's advisors; Caranya, who always seemed to scoff at her. Caranya, who had apparently sold out the Guild for a measly bit of power.

Lisette gripped the parchment fiercely, feeling dread and anger build up in her at the same time. Perhaps Traven had sent her alone because he suspected something was amiss, but Caranya had targeted her because her mission was something she wasn't privy to, obviously. But to go this far for just one life… nevertheless, this had to get to Traven. Quickly.

Gogron, who read the thing over her shoulder, gave a quiet whistle.

"Well, this is bad."

"This… this is…" Treachery.

"Bad. Exceedingly bad." Telaendril translated, looking at Lisette.

"No kidding – look out!" A projectile whooshed past Lisette's ear just as Gogron yanked her out of its way – possibly another poisoned dart.

"Wha-?" Lisette managed to get out before they hit the nearest building, though the Orc took the brunt of the blow, getting her to her feet in an instant.

"I've got him!" Telaendril was already readying her bow; the assailant was getting away. She kept taking aim, but…

"Tel?"

"Damn." the Bosmer swore, lowering her bow. She was used to having the higher ground or at least the element of surprise. This definitely wasn't her way of fighting. She lost her target in the darkness of the various streets.

All three of them were silent for a few moments, uncertain what to do. Lisette was the only one who looked rather sick, her face still almost pasty white.

"What are the chances of us getting to this Caranya before that guy?" Gogron finally asked after making sure that Lisette could still stand without slumping down to the ground.

"Without knowing the way and together?" Telaendril glanced at Lisette – it was obvious that the girl was taking these continuous blows very badly. She needed rest and quiet now, not this cat and mouse chase. But she seemed determined as well and ready to march back to the University. "Close to nil."

"We can't let her get away with this." Lisette struggled to remain firm. She had almost forgotten about the Necromancer incident; so angered was she by this sudden treachery. "We have to get to Arch-Mage Traven and tell him the mole is in the Council-"

"And who do you think is going to be trusted? You or a member of the Council of Mages?" Lisette was silent, unable to respond unreasonably to facts. "Be realistic, Blanche."

"What do we do, then?" Gogron asked. "I don't think the person who organized this is just going to let you walk away. If the Legion gets involved, she might try to cover it up by framing you."

Lisette blinked – framing her? For what crime? Moreover, what was the point of even trying to get rid of her? She wasn't Traven or Raminus Polus.

"Me?" she asked dubiously. Defending herself – as in with a blade? "My fighting prowess amounts to nil and you obviously used weapons."

"That's a minor detail. Come on; one more day shouldn't kill you." Telaendril noted, pulling up the hood on Lisette's improvised clothing just as it began to rain. "I'll go get you a bag of clothes from your room. Gorgon, watch her and make sure no one notices you."

Within an instant, she was gone, taking the note with her, just to make certain Lisette didn't do anything stupid. Gogron took her to the Tiber Septim Hotel, as he had apparently agreed with Telaendril. Lisette was surprised by this, as the Tiber Septim was the most expensive place in town, but it appeared that the Brotherhood was indeed a lucrative business. The two of them got a rather odd look from the receptionist and Lisette was almost afraid that they had been recognized due to her clothes, but then she realized the ridiculousness of that possibility – the woman had merely assumed that they were lovers off for some privacy. One certainly didn't see a pair such as them every day.

Telaendril returned two hours later when the sun had already risen, by which time Lisette was resting on the bed groggily while Gogron cleaned his axe, something that she watched with morbid curiosity. He also helped her clean the Blade of Woe, which she got back. Somehow, she didn't object to the weapon's presence this time.

"Well? Did you get to Traven?" Lisette asked quickly, jumping up the moment the Bosmer entered the room. "Did you give him the note?"

Telaendril gave her a hard look. "Blanche, getting into your room was hard enough, even knowing your birth name. Shush, dear; you're still Blanche to us." she added more kindly. Apparently, all the nonsense about covering things up had been purely for the benefit of her conscience. "My guess is that it'll be ransacked by noon. That Caranya is very quick."

"What happened?"

"Aside from her proclaiming you a Necromancer and a murderess?"

"_What_?" Lisette rarely shrieked, but she now leapt to her feet with unparalleled prowess. Then, having exhausted her energy for the moment, she dropped back to the bed and covered her face with her hands. "But I… I… it's true…"

"No it isn't!" Gogron objected with a scowl. "You don't stink of death or corpses, so it isn't."

"I mean… I killed that woman…"

"You defended yourself in any way possible. A natural reaction to a threat." Telaendril summarized quickly. She wasn't in the mood for a therapy session now, nor did she have much talent for it. They needed to get her to Vicente or Ocheeva, who would be glad to debate the morality of the matter for a few hours. There was no need or time for that now. "What matters now is getting you out of here safely."

"But I'm a member of the Mages Guild – I can challenge Caranya's claim and present evidence of my innocence." Lisette objected. "We have her letter…"

"Blanche, do as Tel says. At least for now." Gogron added, seeing how miserable she looked. She was so dedicated to the cause that she wasn't even thinking about how easily a pawn of the higher circles could be sacrificed. Only the Brotherhood was different from this guild custom due to its familial nature. "We can't protect you at the University and now that you know this much about the woman, she'll resort to anything to get rid of you before you expose her."

"The Guild needs me." Lisette noted quietly, weakly.

"The _Brotherhood_ needs you." Telaendril retorted with much more conviction. She put a bag of clothes on the table, pulling out a few garments. "And we won't judge or sentence you. Consider your options."

"What about Lucien?" It was the first time her mind strayed to the Silencer that was supposed to check up on her soon. She rarely used his first name – it was a sign of impending desperation. Did he already know? What was he going to do about this? And her task was at stake now. "He will want to visit and the potion I'm supposed to be making is still in my room…"

Telaendril motioned to the bag she had brought. "I've got everything that looked important here." Delicately, she took out a few very thoroughly sealed vials. Whatever ingredients Lisette needed could be found at the Sanctuary. Lisette was almost happy now. "I'm not a mage, but I know how to pick up stuff carefully. As for Lucien, I'll stay behind and get hold of him. I stick out less than Gogron."

"Pah! Who needs stealth when you've got axes?" the Orc said, showing his weapon proudly.

Telaendril only rolled her eyes. "Whatever suits you, I'm sure. Go on and get Blanche to Cheydinhal. We'll rendezvous there." And, bidding Lisette farewell, she set out to find the illusive Silencer.


	17. Ash

I like this chapter a lot, since both Vicente and Lucien return momentarily. In any case, things will be taking a little spin now, so don't be worried if stuff happens that you couldn't predict.

Reviews are welcome as always.

**o.O.o**

**Ash**

**o.O.o**

Gogron was a good traveling companion, Lisette discovered, even though he was less cheerful this time around. He was obviously very angry at Caranya and whoever tried to hurt Lisette so – the mage herself was perhaps not entirely aware of the danger. If the Necromancers were putting this much effort into getting her out of the picture, it meant that she had stepped on quite a few toes or, rather, stomped a big and important one very, very hard. That being the Altmer herself, probably, since Lisette was so quickly becoming a favorite of Traven's, sent on missions even the Council knew little of.

And getting her killed on her first mission by an accident or a hidden enemy was the least someone like Caranya could do; she risked nothing while someone else did the dirty work. It was doubtful that most of these low-level acolytes knew her as a member of the Council.

Lisette was still somewhat shaken by the whole ordeal, especially when she once again remembered the moment she killed the Necromancer with her own two hands and the Blade of Woe. Fortunately, Gogron had the sense not to cheerfully inform her that she had passed the first Brotherhood initiation rite, though Lisette herself came to that conclusion soon afterwards. But she was grateful for the silence on that subject. She knew she couldn't expect the same from the higher-ranked members, though, at least not for long.

Entering Cheydinhal was no trouble, though Gogron asked her to wear her hood up, just in case news traveled fast to Caranya and she was even quicker than they expected. It was some hours until the evening when they arrived, but Gogron insisted on going through the "back door" of the Sanctuary, which turned out to be an old well right behind the damaged building Lisette now knew to be the "cover" for the Sanctuary. The orc helped her climb down the narrow ladder and into the main hall. Only Teinaava was sitting there, reading a book; the Argonian nodded respectfully to Lisette and curtly to the orc, who wasted no time in leading the mage to Vicente's chambers.

Fortunately, the vampire was present and almost finished with most of what had obviously been a humongous stack of paperwork perhaps only minutes ago. Looking up, there was a glimmer of surprise in his red eyes upon seeing Lisette, and a raised eyebrow from him was enough to prompt Gogron to explain the absence of Telaendril, the presence of Lisette and what had gone awry during their mission. If Lisette had doubted that the Brotherhood would help her before, she had no such feelings now. The presence of Vicente especially served to give her some semblance of a homecoming, as she could hardly forget the care she had received during her prolonged stay last time.

Surprisingly, Gogron was very good at giving reports, possibly thanks to years of practice, and managed to summarize the events transpired in only a few sentences. Afterwards, Vicente merely nodded before turning his gaze to Lisette. She expected questions, likely concerning her killing, which Gogron was forced to mention (the only moment when she flinched).

"Are you hurt in any way?" Vicente asked instead, his tone calm and leveled. It was almost as if they were discussing this over tea, really.

Lisette felt somewhat uncomfortable, blinking owlishly and then hurriedly glancing at her shoes. "No, not that I know of…" she mumbled, her words slightly unintelligible.

"Very well, then." The vampire only gave the slightest nod before turning his attention back to the orc. "Thank you for your help, Gogron. I will see to Blanche now."

"You sure?" Though he received only a long, pointed look in response, Gogron understood himself to be dismissed quite fully. "All right. I'll be in the training room if any of you need me." At the door, he glanced back at Lisette one more time. He didn't really understand why someone should be agonizing over killing in self-defense, but he knew that the first kill that wasn't voluntary could be enough to break a person's resolve. "Get some rest, will ya?" he added to the Breton, patting her ruffled hair slightly.

"Okay." Lisette said to her shoes, but that was the most that could be expected of her right now. She waited awkwardly for a few moments to let the vampire finish his paperwork before deciding that even irrational guilt was good enough if it could break the silence. "I'm sorry to be causing you trouble, Vicente." she blurted out, but her voice came out sounding more grateful than guilty, which was somewhat embarrassing.

Vicente raised his gaze only for a moment before returning his focus to organizing the file he was finishing, his tone showing his entire opinion on the matter quite clearly.

"Don't be absurd, girl." he said, effectively stopping the apology she was forming in her head. "I told Aurelia before that the risk might be too great and you could be exposed by some mishap on our part. Fortunately, the reason for your exile is less grave than I had feared."

Those weren't the words Lisette would have used to describe her situation. Being proclaimed a Necromancer by a prominent member of the Council of Mages was close to a lifelong prison sentence at best if Traven didn't stand up for her. And if they had some fake proof, then not even the Arch-Mage could intervene.

"I am as good as expelled from the Guild if Caranya gains the Council's support and my absence doesn't serve my defense too well…" Lisette trailed off, though she was quite sure that the vampire knew how her guild operated in such cases.

"I had hoped you would have more perspective than that." Finishing with the file, Vicente stood up and walked over to the nearest bookcase, filled with alphabetically ordered paperwork. Once he found the proper shelf, he stored the file there, squeezing it between the other files neatly, as only someone with centuries of practice could. "The Necromancers will strike eventually and your name will be cleared. It's purely a matter of time." His thin index figure traced a few of the books, resting on their spines, but only for a moment. When turned back to Lisette, his face was grim. "But if you were caught as a spy for the Dark Brotherhood, you would be facing much worse things than simple execution. And we wouldn't be able to shelter you any longer; the Dark Brotherhood cannot and will not risk anyone on a foolhardy rescue mission."

"If they were caught, it would be as good as a confession." Her voice was clearer, quieter now, as she realized the truth of those words. Caranya was more likely trying to get rid of her because she believed her to be an obstacle, not because she knew of her "relatives" and the darker side of their profession. After all, the previous couriers had been most careful in their stealth and with Lucien, there had never been any reason to suspect them of being anything more than they appeared.

Her thoughts momentarily strayed to the Silencer, picturing him in his disguise as a nobleman or wealthy merchant, strolling through the gates of the Arcane University as if he owned the place. The picture was vivid and Lisette recalled that their next meeting was supposed to have been yesterday or today, depending on his duties.

The thought of not seeing him for quite some time bothered her somewhat; she had gotten used to his presence and their usual barter in the past weeks. One could almost say they had a good professional relationship now, blackmail and past murder attempts aside.

"Quite." Vicente confirmed, upper lip twitching slightly as he noted that the truth of the matter didn't affect her as much as it would have months ago. She was taking it rather passively this time. "So, with that out of the way, I bid you welcome back in these hallowed halls." The corners of his mouth turned upwards in a small, welcoming smile. Lisette already knew that Vicente never smiled in a way that showed his teeth. Or, if he did, it was probably only when he wanted to reveal darker intentions to the person on the receiving end.

Shifting from foot to foot momentarily, Lisette held back a sigh. "I think I might end up calling them home this time, if what you say is true." Her own smile was rueful; she had just begun to take sunlight and the outdoors for granted once more.

But Vicente was unfazed. "The Sanctuary _is_ your home, Blanche; it always will be."

This time, Lisette wasn't imagining the softness of his tone. She felt a strange tightness in her throat, because she realized that this was the first moment she actually came to believe this truth fully. The Brotherhood was her family; they wouldn't desert her unless she deserted them. And even though some long-forgotten blackmail had been the beginning of this allegiance, Lisette was becoming increasingly aware of the fact that if she were to choose between the Mages Guild and the Brotherhood, it would have been a pretty close cut; though for which side, she couldn't tell.

Feeling eyes upon her, Lisette saw he somewhat amused vampire shake his head at her. "You are a very odd young woman." he remarked, though he obviously meant no insult. It was simply that this was the first time anyone was reacting to a chain of events such as this in such a manner; one wholly different from how an initiate of the Dark Brotherhood would have reacted.

Before Lisette had a chance to even process the words, the wooden door near her creaked and another figure entered without knocking, obviously not having heard the conversation that had been going on for the past few minutes.

"Vicente, Ocheeva said to send Telaendril up once she came back… oh, I'm sorry. Am I interrupting?" the newcomer cut herself off upon noticing another figure in the room, blinking owlishly at the unfamiliar presence of Lisette. As for the mage, she was somewhat thunderstruck, not so much because of the sudden appearance of someone new than by the slight resemblance the girl she had never seen before had to her.

She was a Breton of medium height, with flaxen hair that barely reached her shoulders and light blue eyes dominating her doll-like face. There was something childish in her appearance, but lacking the innocence youth might suggest. Her armor was the same as the other assassins wore and Lisette quickly came to the conclusion that this was the newest addition to the Dark Brotherhood she had heard about.

It was a cruel irony to see someone that might have been a mirror image of her in those clothes; it was like looking through a warped, twisted looking-glass.

"Not as much as usual." Vicente's words weren't sharp, yet the assassin seemed to immediately know that she was indeed interrupting and that she should have knocked. However, all this was still very new to her, as was the concept of actually knocking on doors. "Blanche, this is Antoinetta Marie, our newest Sanctuary Sister." Lisette observed the girl carefully, noticing the surprised and rather excited look in her eyes when Vicente introduced her. "Antoinetta, this is Blanche, our Cousin. I'm certain you've heard about her already."

"Of course I have!" Antoinetta looked much more at ease now, obviously taking note of the physical similarities between herself and Lisette. The fact that she had barged into the room uninvited went forgotten by her, obviously, as she smiled broadly like a chipper girl half her age would. "I've been wondering when you might pop in. Nice to meet you in person at long last! I hear about you _all the time_ from everyone else!"

Lisette's lips twitched a bit, imagining what those raving descriptions might involve. "Everyone?" she asked somewhat dryly. She could believe that quite easily, though she assumed that if he had the chance, their resident enchanter would much rather forget her entirely.

Antoinetta gave a small grin with just a hint of anxiety, but it was uncertain whether or not she understood the implication. "Not by name, but…"

"I'm certain there will be time for introductions and such later on." Vicente interrupted, almost literally stepping in between them before Antoinetta could start properly. A cold hand descended on Lisette's shoulder lightly and Antoinetta had to marvel how utterly at ease the mage seemed to be in Vicente's presence; most people – including her – didn't truly get used to him in at least a month. Hells, she still wasn't used to the fact that one of her superiors was a vampire. "Come now, Blanche. I will show you to your room."

"My room?" Lisette blinked, glancing up at the vampire.

"She gets her own room?" Antoinetta was surprised as well, quickly expanding the question that sprang up in the other girl's mind at once. The Brothers and Sisters residing in the Sanctuary lived together in gender-separated dormitories, with only one wardrobe and a bed to call their own.

She didn't know much about Black Hand politics – she considered it luck that she even had what little information was available to regular members about the ruling body of the Brotherhood – but obviously Blanche was indeed as unique as she had been led to believe. The absence of any kind of guild insignia on her clothing was irrelevant; it was the fact that she was offered more than a regular member that mattered.

"Yes, Antoinetta. Compared to some others, she does a tremendous deal for the Brotherhood." Vicente noted with some impatience and Antoinetta somewhat reluctantly understood exactly who he was talking about. Which was somewhat unfair, really, since she was very much new to this.

Fortunately, the embarrassment didn't have a chance to take root, because Blanche spoke up in an anxious fashion which reflected how Antoinetta felt for a moment. "You didn't have to do that. I don't really do much now, anyway." she added quietly.

What Antoinetta thought rather unfair was that Vicente didn't make her feel bad about herself with a few well-placed words; instead, he only gave her a brief look and summed his sentiments up with three words, not that Antoinetta understood much.

"Very odd indeed."

**o.O.o**

Telaendril had very little information to work with when looking for Lucien, though that presented no problem for her. Her tasks often involved information gathering and seeking out a target that didn't leave a clear trail behind them. Finding an assassin was something wholly different, of course, but she had several advantages in this hunt. The main one being that she knew one major location where the Silencer would definitely show up, this being the Arcane University. It wasn't wholly desired that he enter it this time, though, since his association with Blanche might prove to be troublesome this time and catch the interest of some people who were best left uninformed of these things.

She had been surprised to see that Blanche's actual name had the same initials as her current target. But it differentiated in the fact that when the Bosmer spoke the name in her mind, she didn't feel any thrill of recognition or even a sense of mystery that Lachance's name might evoke to a complete stranger.

Lisette Lemieux. An ordinary, average Breton name, one that she couldn't imagine associating with a particular face. Blanche remained Blanche to her, someone who played the part of Lisette Lemieux the mage to help the Brotherhood.

After hours of scouting, luck or Sithis returned to the Bosmer's side as she located her target. This time, she didn't have the benefit of casual clothing, so she was forced to lie in wait until Lucien left the Arcane University after being told bits and pieces of information – namely, only the fact that Blanche wasn't yet back. The gate guards knew very little of inner-guild politics, which was to their benefit this time. The archer didn't waste a minute. Approaching Lachance now would not only be suicidal, it would ruin his carefully-cultivated disguise of a distinguished nobleman. Telaendril thought it rather bizarrely amusing to see one of the few people who she could admit matched her skill in remaining unseen walk in broad daylight without any sign of discomfort or the slightest hint of this all being merely an elaborate act.

In the end, Telaendril found herself almost annoyed at the coincidence; it seemed that Lachance had rented a house temporarily almost next to the Tiber Septim hotel; meaning in an affluent neighborhood with easy access to the rest of the city. She was grateful, though, as this meant she would have the chance to speak with him without any chance of interruption from pesky bystanders. It would take a while for her to tell the entire tale.

She slipped in through the window a minute or so after Lachance had closed the door, taking care in case he wasn't alone, for whatever reason. The Silencer was pouring himself a glass of wine when she entered the room quietly, a book picked out on the nearest chair.

"You are unnaturally rushed today, Telaendril." he noted conversationally as the Bosmer entered, quieter than a mouse. His dark gaze remained fixed on the wineglass until the very last drop he intended to pour was in place, but Telaendril knew already that his attention was focused on her.

She knew better than to underestimate the Imperial, but either his hearing had improved immensely during their time apart or she was really being sloppy today.

"There are reasons." She, too, skipped the introduction. Lachance didn't need to remind her how dangerous meeting like this outside the Sanctuary was, especially since she was wearing only a dark cloak over her armor, barely disguising the leather underneath it. "Gogron is with Blanche." she added. Lucien likely knew already that she had been assigned to this task with the orc, but he probably didn't know where Blanche was at the current moment.

The Imperial nodded curtly, looking rather unconcerned, but Telaendril, with centuries of experience on her side, knew when a person's gaze softened ever so slightly. Humans were so easy to read, though credit had to be given to Lachance for being very good at hiding it; unless you knew precisely for what to look, you would never notice the moment when the glint of daggers disappeared from his sharp gaze. Not to be mistaken, his eyes still retained a razor-like quality, unless one was used to it by now.

"I see." Lachance motioned to the nearest chair, offering her a seat. He also had the courtesy to wait until she took her place before lowering himself to his favored chair. "I hope you have a better reason than a simple social call for visiting me at the moment. You know the stakes."

"Of course I do, Lucien." the Bosmer repeated, perhaps just to placate him or get this reprimanding out of the way. "We have a rather serious situation on our hands here. It concerns Blanche." she added when Lucien didn't look too impressed or interested. The change was immediate; the daggers were back, if only for a moment. "Don't worry; she is unharmed, for the time being."

"In her case, I wouldn't be so certain." the Silencer muttered, recalling all too well the many misfortunate encounters Blanche seemed to attract. Always in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Telaendril told the tale as briskly as Gogron would do some time later, many miles away, keeping to the main points. Lachance was surprised to hear that Blanche had apparently slain a Necromancer with her own hands, but he immediately saw the potential such an action brought – the potential for profit and for disaster as well.

Blanche wasn't one to faint at the sight of blood or death, but when the latter was her fault, the effect on her psyche might be entirely different.

"I had Gogron take her to the Tiber Septim, but they should be a few miles away from the city, at least." the Bosmer concluded, receiving a nod of approval from Lachance.

"We must wait for the Necromancers to forget about her. This last mission from Traven has made her far more prominent than is good for her or us." Rising to his feet, the Imperial paced the room for a few moments. This also provided them with an exciting opportunity.

Blanche was practically cornered now. The Necromancers were blocking her entry to her own guild and her conscience was blocking her way anywhere else. The latter could be broken or manipulated and they would have an excellent addition to their Family on a closer than cousinly basis.

"Lucien, the girl needs time." Telaendril suggested, following his train of thought easily.

"Time is easily given in this case."

"She has embraced only part of what we are. I want her to be one of us as well, but if she becomes a Sister only because she feels she has no other choice, she will never learn to embrace the Dread Father and what we are."

She had a point there, Lachance could concede that much. Still, there was something very appealing about the concept of Blanche becoming one of them. The corruption of the innocent, so to speak. Had it not already begun through a sacrifice?

But Telaendril was wrong, in a way. Blanche was not ready to become one of them, because she hadn't truly killed anyone without cause or reason. Fighters and warriors killed in battle all the time and the Brotherhood didn't come to them in their sleep to recruit them. To become a member, one had to kill intentionally, not in battle, in self-defense.

"To become a Sister, she would have to carry out an assassination. And that wouldn't be some simple hacking and slashing at the last moment to save her own neck." Lucien reminded her, pausing momentarily to imagine such a concept. Killing in self-defense was wholly different to killing intentionally. "But she is one step closer to us, yes."

"In any case, we cannot risk entering the Arcane University soon after this." Telaendril noted, slightly irritated by this failure. "I managed to get Blanche's things for her, but we have hereby lost access to a valuable source of magical news and resources."

"She will stay in the Sanctuary until they make another move. They have begun their great offensive, so let them believe it has worked."

Telaendril raised an eyebrow. "I never imagined that you were so interested in Mages Guild politics, Lucien." she noted, "Or do you simply wish to steer them in the direction beneficial for us?"

"I care little for politics. That is Speaker Aurelia's forte. My only concern is Blanche's safety. She is my responsibility for the moment and unless she resumes her position as our agent, the Black Hand might question her usefulness."

Behind the professional façade, there was a bit more zeal than would have been expected, but Telaendril attributed this more to Lucien's professional pride and ambitions drive than to any concern he might have for Blanche. The two had a strange relationship, from what she had heard, but worked well together. Of course, assassins were always reluctant to label anyone as a friend or confidante.

But the Bosmer understood this logic – if Blanche was formally expelled from the Mages Guild, the information used to blackmail her into helping the Brotherhood would be rendered obsolete and her only protection would be her own promises, which would likely amount to little in the eyes of the Black Hand. Because from their point of view, if Blanche revealed the Sanctuary and its residents to the eyes of the Mages, she might be pardoned and the guild, always zealous and hypocritical, would try to eradicate them.

Without success, of course, but it would get messy. Unnecessarily so.

"Thank you for giving me the update, Telaendril. You should return to the Sanctuary after dark. It wouldn't be wise if-"

A series of rapid knocks on the front door interrupted Lachance. Both assassins froze; the Silencer had no servants in his private home, for obvious reasons, and very few people came to call unless he needed them. Telaendril was already half-hidden when Lucien looked at her pointedly with a silent command to hide.

The person who entered identified himself as a Dark Brotherhood courier; it was actually Swift-Flier, the Argonian who used to deliver messages to Lisette before Lucien had taken over that job. Telaendril still didn't leave her hiding place, just in case, but it seemed that the message was very serious. When she saw the seal of the Black Hand, she decided to step out of hiding.

"My sincerest apologies for the intrusion, honored Brother, but these orders are urgent. Please read them immediately." The Argonian nodded respectfully to Telaendril, but then returned his attention to Lachance, waiting for an answer or reaction, whichever came first.

Lachance was slightly on edge now. The Black Hand often sent correspondence to one another – one of the Listener's ideas, to send letters rather than meet so often – but usually, it was Aurelia who forwarded news to him via letters delivered in a wholly different and bizarre method, without a courier. The Speaker was creative when it came to making letters pop out of nowhere discreetly and communicated with her Silencer effortlessly. This was why it was surprising to see letters being forwarded differently.

If others of the Black Hand needed to contact him without consulting Aurelia first, something was definitely off.

Lucien read through the letter quickly, his eyes darting from letter to letter, though it wasn't clear just how much of the text he was taking in. Telaendril saw his expression turn grim and determined; something that always signified trouble. She herself couldn't begin to guess what the contents of the letter might be; perhaps it was for the better in this case.

Once he read the letter twice, Lachance felt as if a dark stormy cloud that had been hanging over the city for the whole day had finally given up on struggling and released the great tide of water it contained on the unsuspecting world. Certainly it felt like drowning.

"Thank you for forwarding the message to me, Brother." the Imperial noted after a few seconds, determined not to show his discomfort or clear his throat. Even things such as this had to be handled with dignity. Especially things like this. "You may tell J'Ghasta that I will most certainly come."

"I will, honored Brother. Sister." Swift-Flyer inclined his head to Telaendril. "Walk always."

Lachance folded the paper carefully and threw it into the fireplace just as the messenger left, much to Telaendril's bewilderment. Documents such as that were usually meant to be stored and kept safe, not so rashly and impulsively discarded.

"Lucien, what has happened?" she asked, looking at the Silencer in worry. This was the first time she had seen him react so strongly to bad news, which it obviously was. She felt a twinge of concern – when even the usually calm and posed Lachance had to fling himself into the nearest chair to subdue his anger, something was most definitely wrong.

For several long moments, Lachance said noting, so Telaendril risked a glance into the fire. Predictably, it was a set of instructions; this time, for a meeting of the Black Hand, though she couldn't make out the time and place anymore, those pieces having been burned away. Also, the cause of the meeting was absent, but the Bosmer had never expected to have it written there in black and white. After all, since when did the Black Hand need a cause for anything?

Lachance, however, was courteous enough to offer an explanation.

"The Black Hand is meeting in three days." he said, running a gloved hand through his hair in clear frustration. "To discus recent events… and select a new Speaker."

Telaendril felt a slight chill. "One of the five has died?" she asked, her voice less resolute than usual. That was rare and disturbing.

But it wasn't quite that simple. "There is more to it than that. They wrote to me that they have good cause to believe she was murdered." If Lachance's eyes could kill, whatever deity was responsible for bringing souls to rest would never get some rest itself.

"Her?" And suddenly, Telaendril understood.

"Aurelia is dead." Lucien said flatly, the last word accented sharply as the anger flared in his eyes. "And there are signs that have led the others to believe that the culprit might be one of our own."

"Impossible." The archer couldn't believe that. None of their own would kill a Speaker – none of them had the _ability_ to kill a Speaker. "That has to be a misinterpretation."

"Not impossible. Only improbable." Lachance corrected, "The fact remains that she is dead. And when you strip away the impossible, only the truth remains."


	18. Ebony

**o.O.o**

**Ebony**

**o.O.o**

Three days passed like the wind; perhaps even quicker, considering the great havoc that they brought with them. Lachance had never before quite appreciated how an orderly and outwardly perfect world could easily be turned into one of chaos. Or so he thought, really, as couriers he had never seen before in his life came and went, giving him notes and instructions obviously meant for the late Speaker. It was chaos in a strangely organized manner, but Lachance couldn't wait for it to end. He also wasn't quite certain what rank he actually represented now; without a Speaker, there could be no Silencer, but one didn't simply become a Speaker by virtue of the previous candidate's death.

So he was stuck between ranks, a substitute without an actual standing in the Brotherhood now, weighed down by a mountain of paperwork when he would much rather be hunting down whoever had the guts to murder his superior. It was partly the fact that he had approved of Aurelia, but mostly his own concern about anyone who could slay a Speaker and get away with it that drove him into frustration.

This was why he hated desk jobs.

Shadowmere was waiting for him near the agreed spot outside the city when he left under the cover of night. She resented being kept in the stables with the mediocre horses and Lachance preferred to let her roam free; not only was the staff incompetent when it came to handling her, but the ownership of a steed as magnificent as his might easily bring unwanted attention. And the last thing Lachance needed now was someone giving him a price for his most prized possession and most loyal companion in one.

Not that any price they could name could come even close to reaching the value of one hair in Shadowmere's mane, especially now, when she seemed to be the last reminder of sanity. The mare, highly intelligent, also seemed to sense its rider's tension and strove to arrive at the meeting place with the greatest haste. Considering the enormous speed of the horse, that was no small feat.

The Black Hand had strange choices in terms of meeting locations, but, remembering the many reasons for that, Lachance had to admit that he wasn't in a position to blame them. Every Legion officer in Cyrodiil would likely sell their soul for the chance to give the list of its members to Adamus Phillida, as they were far too cowardly to take any decisive action themselves. Which, considering who they were dealing with, they could hardly be blamed for. Most people would expect them to choose a macabre location like an ancient Ayleid graveyard or cave. Few would believe their eyes if they knew that the Black Hand was meeting in a small, recently-vacated house just outside of Anvil.

Four figures were already present when he opened the door, though fortunately, they didn't seem to be talking just yet. They were waiting for the last arrival. Lachance realized that he knew only two of them by face – Banus Alor, the Dunmer who often contacted Aurelia, who was now speaking to another Dunmer; shorter, with a distinctly sneer-like expression. The other was Ungolim, the Bosmer to whom he had delivered messages a few times during his career. It was easy to guess which one was J'Ghasta; the rather tall Khajiit was pacing around the room with a restlessness that was thoroughly feline.

No Silencers were present, Lachance noticed immediately, save for him. Understandable, he supposed, since their identities were supposed to be at least as secret as that of their masters, but he couldn't help but feel that this was both comforting and ridiculous. Comforting because it meant that his audience was reduced in half; ridiculous because he sincerely doubted that there was a better use for these people than at their superiors´ side at this point.

Ungolim gave a tight expression that might have passed as a cordial smile with the most astonishingly arrogant. Lachance was also quick to notice that the Speakers were all dressed in their traditional robes, meaning that he in his dark but still very civilian clothes stood out like the accused at a trial.

"Lucien, you have made it just in time."

"Who did it?" Lachance didn't think any kind of pretext was needed. There was only one reason for their being here and that was to discuss how they might capture and punish the person who had caused Aurelia's death. He hadn't even seen the corpse yet, but had no desire to, either; J'Ghasta had been quite thorough at describing the slashing wounds that had led to his Speaker's demise.

The Dunmer whose name he didn't know seemed to scoff at this impertinence, but Banus Alor silenced whatever retort he had for this with a glance. It was Ungolim who spoke, though. "We don't know… but that isn't what concerns us most of all."

"You yourself know that not even Silencers are allowed to know the exact hierarchy of the Black Hand to protect its members." Banus Alor added. These words alerted Lachance to a simple fact he had overlooked up till then; one of these men was the Listener of the Black Hand. He knew that Aurelia had been a Speaker only; that much he was allowed to know. One of these four, then. For a moment, he wondered if he was going to find out tonight. "To pinpoint and track down one of us is a feat we feel only someone with knowledge of our workings could accomplish."

"The slaying alone was something only someone highly skilled in our techniques and styles could have accomplished." J'Ghasta, the Khajiit, never stopped pacing even as he muttered this quite accurate assumption. Naturally, not even the Black Hand shared fighting techniques with one another, but each of them was highly skilled with their respective weapons, despite their confinement to desk jobs. Lucien could vouch for that first-hand; too often he found himself on the receiving end of Aurelia's magic "lessons".

"Why would one of our own slay a Speaker?"

There was one thing every murder had to have, besides, naturally, the weapon used to commit it. A motive. Murder without motive didn't exist, especially in an organization such as theirs. Murder was always the effect of a specific cause; each of them knew that much. And if one of their own field agents had gone rogue, there had to be a very severe reason for such a drastic change.

"We don't know, but we suspect a personal grudge more than organized infiltration." Banus Alor continued, slightly uneasily. All the Speakers were watching him and Lachance began to understand that him being here as the sole Silencer most certainly had a significant reason. "This puts us in a bit of an awkward position, however."

If he intended to break it down in a subtle manner, he needn't have bothered; his Dunmer companion, silent up till this point, apparently believed that beating around the bush was useless in this case and took the incentive. "You are Aurelia's Silencer, meaning that you knew most about her movements and possible weaknesses." he said flatly, giving Lachance a hard and somewhat accusing look.

The Silencer stood still, though admittedly rather rigidly, trying to imagine a situation in which he might kill Aurelia. But it was a preposterous idea; he didn't have the skill to outmatch her in close quarters, nor the reason to wish for her demise. Or even her resignation; Lucien had no wish to ascend the ranks even higher at the current moment, since that would effectively remove him from the field, where he believed he belonged.

Besides, he was too blatantly obvious a choice.

"Pardon me for saying so, but suggesting such a thing is outrageous, Speaker." the Imperial noted calmly, meeting his opponent's gaze evenly. In the Dunmer's mind, he seemed to have already been singled out as the culprit, but since he was still alive, he assumed that there was no evidence against him. It was just guesswork, assumptions. Not enough to condemn a person; not yet.

"You have all the ability needed… but more intelligence than that, I believe." It wasn't just a distinctly unflattering assumption on Ulvani's part, but also a warning – or threat.

"We don't believe it was you who did this, Lachance; the trail would be too obvious." J'Ghasta would likely know that, feline senses and all that, the Imperial mused. What they didn't tell him was that this wasn't the first time something of the sort had happened; though back then, they had all considered it accident. But in contrast to Alastriona's disappearance some months ago, Aurelia's body had been found quite easily. The Black Hand was growing restless, to tell the truth.

"Thank you."

"We have no solid evidence for or against the theory. But we know you to be loyal and efficient." Alor translated into a more cordial manner. Still, he was basically saying the same thing; that they didn't have another suspect and that he would most easily fit the requirements of one. "Try to understand our reasons for suspecting you."

He could see the reasons, of course; but it didn't mean he had to like them. Instead of voicing that thought, Lachance opted for a simple curt nod – which seemed enough of an answer to his superiors for the time being. It also signaled the end of the first part of this odd meeting.

"This leaves the Black Hand one member short, naturally." Ungolim took over now, motioning for Lachance to take his place in one of the chairs – whichever one he wished. The room was quite spacious and one might think that it was a club meeting, considering the relative informality of it. If only it weren't for the ceremonial robes, of course. "We are, however, in agreement as to who should fill our… vacancy. We hereby bestow upon you the title of Speaker of the Black Hand, Lucien Lachance. You will be taking over Aurelia Portus´ duties to the Cheydinhal sanctuary and the Black Hand."

The usual reaction to a sudden promotion was without question positive, but Lachance, anything but usual, felt rather as if he had surfaced from a deep dark ocean only to find the night filled with the beginnings of a storm. He wasn't at all ignorant to the fact that while his talents may be adequate to fill this position, it was a double-edged sword. The true reason for this sudden promotion was a compromise between the members of the Black Hand, who had obviously agreed to give him this position so that he could be under better surveillance.

"Speaker, I don't know what to say." Lachance noted truthfully. Though it wasn't an unpredictable turn of events, he still couldn't fully grasp the fact that this was how he was to become Speaker; in contradiction with all the traditions of the Brotherhood. "I am overwhelmed."

Ungolim once again gave the tight smile-like expression; the Bosmer was quite clearly aware of his thoughts to some degree. However, that didn't stop him from having the final word with just the hint of superiority, as was his prerogative.

"Listener, actually, my friend."

**o.O.o**

His first journey, naturally, was to the Cheydinhal sanctuary.

While it was likely that Vicente already knew of the changes, Lucien felt the need to make things official. It would be a start into his duties, in any case; duties that were more extensive than he previously thought, or so he found out after the relatively lengthy debriefing that followed the advancement ceremony. Even now, it seemed unreal that he was taking over as Speaker; he had known that it was likely to happen some day, but this… suffice to say he wasn't at all pleased with things.

It was dark in the city by the time he arrived and a simple dark cloak over his robes was enough to fool the sleepy watchmen. He left Shadowmere just outside the city, asking her to wait patiently. The visit wouldn't be long. The Sanctuary itself seemed relatively deserted, but his sensitive hearing picked up the sounds of voices and laughter from the training room, Blanche apparently among them. That was good – likely the first good news in the last few days. He would have to see to her later on.

Of course Vicente wasn't training – the vampire had no need for it after several centuries as an assassin and some of that time spent as Speaker – the man never left his office nowadays, it seemed. Or if he did, he was so perfect with his stealth that people didn't notice and then found themselves thoroughly flabbergasted to run into him in the library or in the corridors. Valtieri had always been a sort of mentor for Lucien, even before Aurelia took over the position of his personal annoyance and immediate superior, thus the newly-made Speaker was rather thankful to have him as the person who would have to hear the bad news.

"You look troubled. More so than usual." Vicente announced once the Speaker entered, not even looking away from the letter he was writing until he finished writing the last word in graceful, slanted handwriting. Then, glancing up, his eyes stopped on the fresh Black Hand robes only for a second before meeting Lucien's. Credit had to be given to the fact that he didn't look surprised. "What happened?"

"I would have thought you had received the news by now." Though Vicente was no longer a Speaker, he was most certainly the most well-informed member of the Brotherhood regarding Black Hand business by virtue of having been a member. He was dealing with new recruits these days simply because he wanted to; he enjoyed working with new people. Lachance also suspected that the reactions to his obvious vampirism had long since ceased to be annoying and now were simply vaguely entertaining.

"After seeing your robes, there isn't any need for explanations." the vampire said flatly, pausing only for a moment. "How did she die?" So he knew. Obviously.

"Murder." For the first time in his life, Lachance felt the bitter aftertaste of the word in his mouth. Somehow, he wasn't able to be glad for Aurelia – glad for the fact that she was supposedly with their Dread Father now. Murder was still murder. "The Black Hand suspects a traitor among our own."

Vicente lowered his quill and placed it back in the inkpot, leaning back on his chair. "Ah, that would make sense." he noted, pondering the notion a bit deeper. "But such an infiltration is unheard of. No one could pretend for a sufficient length of time if they led a double life."

Lachance paced around the chamber for a few steps. The black robes would take some time getting used to, he realized; comfortable as they were, they still felt odd. Though of course he would likely wear them only sparingly; dressing up as a Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood in public equaled putting an "I am an assassin, SHHH!" sign on his back while he brandished an impressive collection of knives.

"I was given her job so they could keep a closer watch on Me." he muttered distastefully. It wasn't that he was looking for pity, but he wanted to hear the vampire's opinion on the matter.

"Do you feel cheated of achieving that on your own?" Vicente asked, unfazed. That theory was one of the first he had come to; Lucien's abilities notwithstanding, this was a very good reason to promote him. Actually, it was those very abilities that made him Speaker material were what made him a potential traitor.

"I don't know if they really think I have earned the rank. Besides, we have a larger problem on our hands and that is catching our murderer. Until then, this sanctuary will likely remain under suspicion."

"I will look into the matter, but I highly doubt any of our recruits would have been capable of killing Aurelia." The late Speaker wasn't an easy target for anyone; certainly not unless they got close to her in her sleep, which was unlikely, Aurelia being a known insomniac. He himself could have had a chance, he supposed, but his history with the Brotherhood was too long and good to make him a suspect. And the others? "They lack the skill and the desire."

"Desk jobs aren't the best way to maintain your skill, if I recall." But those were simply vague suspicions. He just so wanted to find the person who did this and rip open their skull… but obviously, none of _his_ recruits could have done it. Aurelia knew their techniques inside out after years of observation. No, Lachance was convinced that it had been someone else. "It also means that I will have to appoint someone as my Silencer." The Imperial shook his head, sinking a bit as he leaned against the nearest wall. This would take some time getting used to – he, a Speaker. Aurelia, gone. "All this seems so surreal."

"We need to take things one at a time." Vicente said finally, calmly, the voice of reason in what seemed a world of insanity. One could actually think that Speakers dropped dead by mysterious murder on a weekly basis, considering his level-headed approach to the situation. "If this conspiracy theory is true, then the killer will most likely lie in wait now to see our reaction. Let things go as they must. We have a different issue on our hands now."

After the announcement of Aurelia's death, Lucien had all but forgotten Telaendril's other news. Now, however, he was reminded of their second problem; another duty falling on his shoulders to take care of.

"Yes, indeed. How is Blanche? Telaendril told me everything." Returning back to it now, he supposed that the mage had been quite shocked to be forced to take a life. The first time was always the most difficult, especially if there wasn't conviction behind the strike.

"She was mostly shaken by the kill, but that is to be expected for someone of her nature." the vampire confirmed. Of course she would learn to cope with it; she was soft, yes, but not weak of mind – over time, she would learn to accept the act, of not, perhaps, to embrace it. The second time was always easier. "Other than that, she reacted quite normally, given the situation."

Lachance gave a curt nod. The normal reaction to murder was physical as well as psychological. Panic and shock could manifest themselves in various ways, but that was good; that way, the negative emotion got out. "We can deal with anger and fear. Those might serve our purposes regarding her."

"And what exactly are our purposes regarding her?" Vicente asked, leaning back on his chair. As she was, Blanche was useless to them as a field agent. They could use a healer in the sanctuary, perhaps, but injuries weren't nearly common enough to justify such an action for a long period of time. And forgetting the reaction of their resident Khajiit to this would be most unwise. "I would be most interested in hearing about that, since she lost at least half of her value to us due to this mishap."

"Considering the recent death of a Speaker, she wasn't exactly on the top of the list of topics discussed." The Black Hand had, understandably, forgotten about Blanche in light of recent events. However, they would remember soon enough, Lachance knew. And perhaps this would be his first test in their eyes; seeing how he dealt with the troubles of their sleeper agent, so to speak. "I suppose it would be best if she were to stay here until things settle down and something can be done about this. If there isn't solid evidence about her, Traven might overrule that Altmer mole."

"Yes, it seems Blanche has a tendency to be the favorite of many people."

Something about the way he said that made the Speaker frown. "I thought you liked the girl; now it seems as if you're trying to think of reasons for getting rid of her."

"Nonsense, Lucien; of course I like her." The vampire almost seemed insulted that he would even insinuate any dislike for Blanche he might have; perhaps rightfully so, one had to admit, considering that he likely owed his unlife to her. Vicente was simply one of those who had lived long enough to understand that sentiments varied from person to person and they alone might not be justification enough to those with a different point of view. "I'm simply trying to approach it from the angle that will not make us seem like a charity for those on the run."

"You know that it is us people run from." Lucien noted before walking out of the vampire's office.

He followed the sound of voices back to the training room, where only Ocheeva seemed to be doing any kind of training – surprisingly, even that seemed just a superficial cover for listening to the others tell tales of their various missions to Blanche. The mage was sitting in their midst with a book in her lap, one that had obviously gone forgotten once the tales of their exploits had begun spinning. Gogron seemed to be constantly interrupting Teinaava with his truly booming laughter at the goriest moments and Antoinetta either listened or added her own tidbits to the tales; usually, the former.

Blanche looked distinctly more comfortable in the Sanctuary and the presence of several seasoned assassins than the last time they met, though that could have been caused by the presence of Aurelia. Truthfully, Lucien recognized her mostly because she was the only person in the room not wearing black; otherwise it was difficult to believe that it was actually the same mageling. It was the first time she wasn't wearing Guild robes, but rather, a very elegant silken dress that seemed to be an article of clothing way beyond someone who was a poor student of the arcane. Her hair tied back in an almost obsessively neat braid, she certainly looked nothing like what any potential bounty hunters might look for after hearing her description from the Council.

It was a time of change, it seemed, for all of them.

"Enjoying your visit so far?"

Not even Ocheeva noticed him approach before he spoke to announce his presence, though this could be attributed to the Argonian dividing her attention between practicing and making sure that the goriest details of the stories were kept from Blanche whenever possible.

It was Antoinetta, who was seated in a manner almost facing the doorway, who reacted first with a bright smile. "Lucien! Welcome back! We were just-" She cut herself off – ironically, because no one else did before she saw the reason for that and proceeded to simply stare silently. The probability of her being the last one to realize what had happened was quite high; even Lisette recognized the black robes as something Aurelia had worn previously, even though she didn't make the connection immediately.

Ocheeva set aside her dagger and gave a distinctly deferent nod. Credit had to be given to the fact that she didn't show any outward signs of panic. "I hope the Night Mother walks with you… Speaker." she noted, pronouncing the last word carefully.

"What happened to Aurelia?" The answer was relatively clear to everyone, but Teinaava's tone suggested a different question than the one he was voicing. He wasn't asking _what_, but rather, _how._

"Permanent retirement. I'm afraid I cannot discuss the details with any of you." And that was the end of it, really; he couldn't tell them much more without going into the details that the Black Hand had strictly forbidden its members to share even with their Silencers. Speaking of that, he had yet to find one for himself. "I just came here to borrow Blanche for a while, if I may."

Lisette blinked, a bit surprised, but by then, Teinaava was up on his feet and prompting everyone else to get up and get out as well. "Of course – we should go start with the dinner preparations anyway. I have to show Antoinetta the ropes, after all. We're one cook short since Vicente refuses to allow Mattieu into the kitchen."

The dagger-happy Breton glared a bit at Teinaava and was likely about to say something to Lucien in defense of her cooking skills, but then saw the serious look in his eyes and how his attention was already fixed on more crucial matters than her cooking. She didn't have to be happy about it, but it was enough a cue for her to shut up before even speaking as anything.

Seeing as there was no Speaker-esque office in this Sanctuary, it didn't feel that bizarre to be in a training room while having a rather important conversation, but Lisette certainly doubted that it was normal.

"So… Speaker Lachance, then." She stood up as well, since he didn't seem to be about to move or even change his rather stern posture. It was difficult to find the correct words, though, since she didn't know how she was to react to this sudden news. "I suppose congratulations are in order."

"Considering the reason for my promotion, I hardly believe that is the case." Lucien noted rather dismissively. "But thank you."

"I guess this means the entire sanctuary is under your jurisdiction now, doesn't it?"

"Yes, including yourself." Judging by the way she blinked, it seemed that Blanche hadn't really thought about how long she might be forced to stay in the Sanctuary or who would make the decisions regarding her stay. "We will be watching the situation closely, but I don't really believe that you will have much luck reestablishing yourself as a member of the Mages Guild without some solid evidence against the word of a Council member."

"And the fact that I left before I could defend myself certainly doesn't help with that, you know." The mage frowned, sighing – it was a catch twenty-two. To gather evidence, running away was inevitable. Of course, that only made it seem like a downright confession, which wasn't good from where she was standing. "But you're right…"

The slightest smirk seemed to cross his features, but then again, perhaps it was only an illusion his somewhat smugger tone brought with it. "As usual."

Lisette glared as best as she could, which, considering the situation, wasn't much. She was keeping herself thoroughly in check this time, gradually realizing just how audacious she was being, considering that she was talking to a Speaker of the Black Hand. Something was either decidedly wrong with her or she still hadn't completely grasped the situation. "Just because you're Speaker now doesn't mean I'm going to be your yes-girl, you know."

"But you _could_ be our girl now, Blanche. I heard what happened with the Necromancer." he clarified when the girl simply looked at him in disbelief. She tensed visibly after realizing what he meant, but she also seemed to have gotten over the worst part of her shock previously.

Instead, she only waved the words away. "Please let's not talk about that. I… I wouldn't have done it if there had been a choice. It was self-defense."

"Of course it was." Whether it was affirmed with irony or no, the Speaker mercifully chose not to pursue the subject any further, to Lisette's relief. "But we like to see willingness to do such a thing as a step in the right direction – to us. I only wanted to remind you of that."

"While I'm here, I doubt anyone will let me forget." Lisette said more to herself than to Lucien, underlining her thought with a small, shaky laugh. "But look at me, Lucien. Do you really think I could repeat something like that at will? I didn't think so.

"You don't. Which is precisely the reason why we want you here."

Though inwardly she laughed the contradiction off, Lisette wasn't quite certain how concerned she should be by such an off-handed _yes_ to her question. "So how long are you staying?" she asked on a lighter note. "In a hurry to get to your new desk?"

Fortunately, the Speaker himself seemed to be keener on discussing something different, given the chance, and so went along with her blatant and weak attempt to change the topic of the conversation. "My desk remains the same, fortunately. Only the quantity of paper on it is likely to change very soon."

And the lady-like wraith so resembling Blanche gave a genuine laugh for the first time ever in his presence, showing that the true changes were likely beginning only now. "Makes you wonder if Aurelia kept a secretary."


	19. Clouds

**o.O.o**

**Clouds**

**o.O.o**

Life with the Dark Brotherhood, Lisette discovered, was much different from one might expect based on the tales that had become urban legend to Cyrodiil.

She wasn't permitted to wear Guild robes in the Sanctuary; the assassins said it wasn't good for her right after concluding that, since she was more or less a fugitive from the Mages now, she had little cause to dress as one. That left her with a somewhat limited wardrobe, though. Of course she had casual clothes, just like the next mage, but she spent so much time in the labs and dressed in her Magician robes that she didn't realize she had outgrown some of her old clothes. Fortunately, that didn't include the dress she got from Bradon and Erline and the robe she had from her former servants back at High Rock. Until new clothes could be acquired for her, she was mostly down to these two outfits.

As she was not a major fan of dressing up every occasion, she became increasingly aware of the need to acquire new clothing for herself. Very much to her surprise, she found the assassins very helpful in this regard. She already knew that not all of them were masters of disguise, so to speak – and, in some of their cases, it wouldn't have worked much anyway even if they tried – but they were easily able to tell what clothing would make her appear inconspicuous in Cheydinhal, because she eventually had to get out of the Sanctuary and buy some things.

Oddly, most of the time, it was Bellamont who brought her new things – though Lisette insisted that she pay with her own gold for whatever was needed. It was the easiest way to mask her presence or their actual intentions, to pretend they were siblings or married or had some such mundane connection to one another.

"Besides, such normal things rarely take place among our kind. Might as well enjoy them." he would say when Lisette noted that she could easily do this on her own, so to be not that much trouble.

Another strange fact was that some of the assassins were somewhat known as people living near the city, though not directly in it, or travelers that often passed this way. She supposed that it was easier to maintain their cover this way, though she was still surprised that no one questioned the presence of the ruined house in the city of why everyone seemed keen to avoid it. There were plenty of ghost stories being spread around town about it to scare off small children, so no one went near it from an early age.

Lisette followed that principle with the local Mages Guild, though it pained her somewhat to do so. She had come quite used to regard herself as one of the mages, so now, having to hide from them, was practically foreign to her. It was highly doubtful that Caranya would go so far as to give her name and description to all the guildhalls, but one could never be too safe, regrettably. That also meant that she had to set aside her Spelldrinker amulet, leaving it forgotten with her old robes.

Once again, she was reminded that she missed most of all was the necklace from Bradon and Erline. The Nine only knew where Lucien had thrown that away, though, so she wasn't about to get her hopes up about seeing it again. But that wasn't so important.

The newly-appointed Speaker stayed with them only for a day or two before being forced to turn his attention to further responsibilities, such as choosing a new Silencer. As none of those in the Cheydinhal Sanctuary were ready for such a task – excluding Vicente, who would refuse and Ocheeva, who was needed to maintain order – the Black Hand decided to be gracious in light of the situation and someone who had been next in line for a different Silencer position was selected.

Aside from this initial haste, however, Lisette found the Sanctuary to be to her liking, quickly discovering that she actually preferred it to the high-nosed noble-born wanna-be mages, who couldn't cast a cantrip to save their lives but always blamed one another for their failures. It was nice to see that here, there was only one such person, who quickly shot all her faults into her nose. That one such person was, once again, M'raaj Dar, who never failed to find some fault with her.

Ocheeva took Lisette in for a private conversation about that particular problem. The Khajiit was quite unfriendly to all new recruits on a general basis, she claimed, but this animosity was taking rather long.

"I suppose it's because your talents are similar, yet not the same," the Argonian mused, "and your brand of magic has found greater employment among us, given that there are few who bring knowledge of the healing arts to our order." Ocheeva then followed up with a sympathetic glance and an imploring tone. "Give it time, and ignore him, if you will. It will pass, and he will come to see the value of your presence."

Perhaps that was right, but Lisette just wasn't able to see the value in his quite yet. The Khajiit was apparently working on spells of his own – or so he claimed – so he barely communicated with the rest of them and usually left the room with an air of ostentatious disapproval whenever she entered.

The latest jab at her expense came when she was continuing with her experiments for the truth serum. Teinaava, who apparently enjoyed alchemy and knew quite a bit due to his books, offered to help her out with the weighting and measuring, which was very helpful, Lisette had to admit. The moment – or the day, depending on how one viewed it – ceased to be pleasant when their resident Khajiit barged into the room with a typically sour look on his face, ignoring his fellow assassin completely and focusing only on the mage.

"You have exhausted the full supply of Bergamot Leaves!" he accused without a pretext, showing the empty box marked with the name of the designated ingredient. True enough, anyone could admit.

Lisette fidgeted just a little, seeing as she was in the right this time. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you needed them."

Blanche had to learn the hard way that apologizing to him had little effect on the Khajiit, as far as "his craft" was concerned. It only seemed to offend him further. Frankly, Teinaava was surprised M'raaj Dar even bothered; most of the time, his concern was enchanting weapons and armor or scribing scrolls, yet ever since their Cousin had taken up permanent residence with them, he seemed to be continually striving to prove that he was just as good – or better – at alchemy as she was. In vain, thus far.

"Their effects seemed useful for the potion I'm making – I just need to get rid of the Silence effect and-"

"I suppose you think we can harvest these anywhere just for your amusement." Ah, there they went again. Teinaava almost sighed, rolling his eyes discreetly. Bergamot Leaves weren't Blood Grass; one didn't have to venture to the planes of Oblivion to get it. Besides, potion ingredients were for usage, not for museum viewings. Perhaps that was why M'raaj Dar was still huffing at the petite Breton – and why he was still the inferior potion maker. "That the Sanctuary can accommodate your every whim."

"Not all experiments work out, as you very well know." Lisette countered, checking the status of the potion.

She knew very well that ever since she had politely denied any chance of her joining the ranks in public, some of her – could they be considered that? – friends (yes, she supposed, the truest that she had) were plotting to somehow corner her into admitting that she had to join the Brotherhood formally. Thankfully, they all seemed to realize that what had happened with the Necromancers was a touchy subject to her and didn't bring that up.

Instead, they were likely trying to remind her how much she now depended on the Brotherhood and thus corner her and convince her into admitting that she should "give something back". But Lisette was stubborn in this regard; it was the Brotherhood that had enlisted her… services? Possibly. Due to blackmail, she had agreed. She owed the Brotherhood nothing – it was helping itself, not her. She couldn't leave now, of course – she was too deep in. But she wasn't going to kill _anyone else._

However, since she wasn't technically one of them, M'raaj Dar was very happy to use her as the scapegoat for any and every problem.

"Oh, of course! And ingredients will just pop into our laps!" the Khajiit scoffed, as if to remind her that she wasn't the one who was paying for everything or providing the ingredients.

"You should watch your tongue, M'raaj Dar." Teinaava found it fit to intervene at that point, since Blanche wasn't about to try and anger any of them. "If you have a problem with this potion, you don't have to be here."

But the Khajiit didn't back down, which was a new one. "I have a _problem_ with this useless whelp!" This time, he didn't even look at Blanche, who calmly went back to her work, shutting out the noise as if she didn't have a bother in the world, least of all a small mosquito buzzing near her head. "Ocheeva knows perfectly well I could brew it myself, but everyone insists on protecting a useless liability."

Ah, there it was again. Lisette didn't flinch this time; it had become too old a trick in these past few days for her to be annoyed by it. Besides, it was the truth. She didn't leave the Sanctuary alone or cause any trouble, but yes, she was a liability. She wasn't one to give her life for an ideal, let alone the Dark Brotherhood. And the fact that she was still an outsider was something she didn't need to be reminded of.

Teinaava, however, didn't have any such trouble.

"Bite your tongue. The Black Hand itself commissioned this potion. If you have a problem with the instructions, you have a problem with them."

For a moment, it seemed that the Khajiit didn't have anything to say to that; at least, nothing that wouldn't make him seem like a fool. But he was quick to recover, scoffing at the Argonian as well. "Charmed you all with her parlor tricks, has she? Bah! What else to expect from a Breton charlatan!"

And that was the end of it, fortunately, as M'raaj Dar seemed to know when to give up, at least, and left for the time being. Teinaava glanced at Blanche, who seemed to have gotten through this by ignoring the latter part of the conversation. But she did look a bit troubled, which didn't necessarily bode well for any of them.

"Just ignore him." the Argonian said as Lisette set off a minor enchantment to proceed with the experiment. "He's only…"

But Lisette gave a quick, light smile. "I know, Teinaava. I think we could try Fennel Seeds now. If we can get over the intelligence-damaging attributes, we should be able to make progress."

And learning the finer points of pretending and ignoring wasn't necessarily a bad thing, Lisette discovered.

**o.O.o**

There were rougher periods, of course, mainly due to the fact that Vicente kept true to his word from their last encounter and asked that she be trained in at least some basic martial skills. Lisette never got an actual chance to protest, especially with everyone else voting against her in this. However, she didn't have much time – at least she said so herself – so focused on the potion she was.

In the end, the task of helping her learn fell to Antoinetta, for several reasons. The first being that she, as the newest recruit had more time on her hands than others, being a mere Murderer – an unsettling title, that. Lisette knew much about the hierarchy of the Brotherhood now, enough to conclude that they had a penchant for unnerving people just for the fun of it.

The second was that she was the only one who hadn't been acquainted with Lisette so well – and they were both of the same race, gender and age, so one supposed they would make friends quite quickly. And the third, the most important, was that out of all the assassins in Cheydinhal, she was the one who used her dagger the most.

And that was about the only weapon with which Lisette had any experience. She tended to rely on her magic most of all, especially since it was far more potent than any weapon, considering her built and physical strength. The only thing that could be remotely considered a weapon she had was her staff, but she didn't carry it with her too often and used it even more rarely. Besides, one couldn't cut with a staff.

It turned out that Antoinetta was actually highly proficient with the dagger for a mere street-urchin, nibble and rather dexterous as well. She was also happy to be able to instruct someone else, it seemed.

"Now, hold your arm like this…" But it was comical to mimic things after her, especially considering the face of concentration she sometimes made. "Sidestep and…!" With a small flourish, Antoinetta finished her "combo" and landed back on her feet with the _ta-daa!_ perkiness of a circus performer. Then, she glanced at Lisette, who was looking at her incredulously, as if she had sprouted a second head. "There! See? That wasn't too difficult, was it?"

"I think I'll stick to my magic, thank you."

Antoinetta wasn't that easily dissuaded, though. She pestered Lisette until the other Breton gave it a shot. It was far less graceful, certain or feral, but it would have helped somewhat in a real battle. Or in a scrape, at least.

"Well… you're definitely not ready to use it as anything but a last-ditch effort. Maybe we should try a different weapon and see…"

She was ready to rummage through all the weaponry they had in the Sanctuary. It wasn't surprising that they had mostly everything one could wish to fight with – from swords to maces, daggers, bows, slings, axes, claymores and hammers; no matter what one's style or preference, the Dark Brotherhood had the adequate weaponry for it. However, most of the weapons were too heavy or cumbersome for Lisette, who preferred having her hands free to cast spells. She wouldn't accept anything but the Blade of Woe she still had with her.

"Antoinetta, I have work to do." Lisette tried her best not to groan. Perhaps she had outgrown her youthful enthusiasm before she had ever been young; people often said of her that she had skipped puberty altogether, for her mind allowed no such frivolousness as things the young might consider fun. She was rather scared of those things, actually.

"Nonsense!" Antoinetta surfaced briefly from the pile of weapons, scowling just for a moment. It didn't look very convincing on her face, really, this look of righteous indignation. "Vicente specifically asked me to train you in the basic martial tricks, so I'm gonna do just that."

"To keep you out of the kitchen, yes, Antoinetta."

That didn't sit entirely well with the dagger-wielding Breton, but she reddened around the ears – which was admission enough. She still wasn't allowed to be the one cooking after Vicente realized that she, too, had a penchant for putting garlic into the food. Not in the quantities Mattieu used to, but it was more than enough to put him in a cranky mood and weaken him somewhat. Which was the last thing anyone wanted.

A cranky vampire, that is.

New recruits came and went one at a time, but none usually lasted too long. There was a general unease around the whole province, with the winter approaching in a few months. After about two weeks, it was judged that Lisette had enough clothing to be able to leave the Sanctuary without a chance for recognition. She usually enchanted her hair to give it a different color, just to be certain, but it seemed that no one was too interested in looking for one supposed traitor to the Mages Guild. The Necromancers, too, likely had worthier pursuits, though Lisette tried her best to keep up to date with recent events.

By the third week, she had gotten used to gathering her own more mundane ingredients just outside of the town or at an apothecary. She took care not to go anywhere near the local guildhall, just in case. And the potion, though rather stubborn, was progressing, considering the fact that no one had ever succeeded in this very endeavor, as far as Lisette was aware.

Thankfully, after a few garlic incidents, there was no more of it in their food. The little of it that was used as a potion ingredient was being kept in a secured barrel that was kept out of Antoinetta's reach, making everyone happy. Lisette wasn't too fond of garlic anyway, so everything was progressing just fine. It was strange, though, to not dine with everyone each evening, since always, someone was out on a mission. And Lisette knew that it wasn't purely courtesy that kept them from giving her cleaning or cooking duties.

It was something of a strategy to make her feel guilty, but she was determined not to let it work. And it didn't, for a long time.

There were always plenty of couriers running round, delivering messages to Vicente and Ocheeva - messages neither of them were allowed to share with the others, unfortunately – but in the fifth week of Lisette's stay, it was Lachance himself who came for the first time ever since having left them so abruptly after his sudden promotion to Speaker. He wore an ordinary traveling cloak over his clothes, looking indistinguishable from an ordinary visitor to the city. The Black Hand itself only wore their fabled robes during ceremonies and meetings, Lisette found out eventually.

And the good dinner they were having that night was somewhat spoiled by the fact that their Speaker had a rather grim and determined expression on his face as he asked Vicente and Bellamont to speak with him, with the mention that he would like to speak with Ocheeva later on (the Argonian excused herself on the basis of wanting to speak with Lisette after dinner).

In the meantime, the rest of the assassins present were making guesses about what it might be.

"What do you think is going on?"

"My guess is that it's bad news."

"Puh-lease, anyone could gather that much. It's been happening too often recently, that's what's bothering me."

Vicente returned before anyone else could give their input, ending whatever thought Gogron might have wanted to elaborate.

"I hate to interrupt your meal, but an urgent task has come up. It requires reconnaissance as well as decisive action, so it goes to you, brother." he handed Teinaava a letter with instructions, which the Argonian took. He immediately nodded, stood up and went to get ready. "The rest of you; please be ready for sudden assignments; this looks like the start of a rough period for us."

That was a bad sign, as far as anyone was concerned and Lisette felt some curiosity as she approached Ocheeva's quarters. She rather liked the Argonian, but they rarely spoke; as mistress of the Sanctuary, Ocheeva was mostly busy with recruits and other paperwork, so it was usually Vicente who was "in charge" of her, so to speak. The office was also Ocheeva's room; it was about as large as Vicente's, with only the stone table he used as a bed replaced by the actual article.

The assassin, seated at her desk, glanced up at Lisette pleasantly. "Ah, Blanche, thank you for coming."

"Ocheeva." There was a chair prepared for her there, the Breton noticed, and she took her place in it when Ocheeva motioned to it.

"How's the potion going? Any results?" Ocheeva wasn't one to mince words too much unless the situation required it, though her voice was always warm and welcoming. They made a good team with Vicente, due to these contrasts.

Lisette, shrugging, gave her estimate. "I think I might be able to get it done within a few weeks. At least, I hope so."

"It would be very helpful if you completed it as soon as possible."

"Has something happened?" As Blanche wasn't a full member of the Brotherhood, there were some things that had to be kept from her… but she also wasn't a full member, a mere assassin, and therefore she had the right to know some things. It was an odd thing.

"Let us just say that the Dark Brotherhood has fallen on rather… hard times." It was a lame response, Ocheeva knew, but she couldn't reveal too much, simply because she herself was lacking in concrete facts. "Several of our elite operatives have been taken down recently – a fact which causes us quite some concern."

"Someone is targeting the Brotherhood?"

That was what most of them thought as well, but it was still too random and disorganized… though there were rumors already since Aurelia's death that they had displeased Sithis in some way and this was revenge from the Night Mother. No one but the Listener could confirm that, though, if even him. "We cannot be certain, but we do know that the people they worked with should be interrogated or observed."

"That many have died?" Lisette swallowed a bit. She had always thought of the Brotherhood as rather invincible… before she had joined them in this manner. They were just as mortal as she now to her, only far more skilled with weaponry and stealth.

"No, only several, but that is enough cause for us to be concerned." Ocheeva noted, putting her hands on the table, gloved fingers of both hands entwining. "As you very well know, most of us don't regularly take part in everyday society, unless we wish it. This Sanctuary in particular is mainly home to those who don't continue with the pretence of an average life. There have been too many _accidents_ recently – whether they are connected or not, it isn't good for us."

"What are we going to do, then?"

"That is for the Black Hand to decide." If only they _could_ come to a decision, though. From what Lucien seemed to think, there was little chance of any decisive action at the moment. "I assume that's why-"

Unfortunately for Ocheeva, the person who opened her door didn't bother knocking this time, as it was a rather urgent thing, and so she wasn't able to finish her thought; that Blanche was being encouraged to finish up quickly, lest someone might think that she was stalling to gain time for something they might not like.

"Excuse me, Ocheeva… you too, Blanche." Bellamont sounded slightly more respectful when addressing the Breton, though scarcely anyone could have heard it. "I'm afraid this is cannot wait. Lucien has promoted me – there was an opening in direct connection to the Black Hand, so I have accepted it."

The Argonian's eyebrows rose somewhat. Due to the conversation with Blanche, she wasn't able to speak with Lucien yet, but this was quite a surprise. A promotion could only mean the position of Silencer, which was usually awarded to only those very promising… which, upon recollection, Mattieu was, though she would have personally advised him to wait a few more months, at least.

"That is rather sudden, but if Lucien chose you himself… congratulations, Mattieu." She couldn't think of much else to say, especially since her mind was more with the matter of Blanche at the moment. Rising, she shook the newly-selected Silencer's hand, wondering who had been the misfortunate one to leave their ranks this time. "You will be leaving with our Speaker, then?"

"Indeed." He looked rather pale and nervous, but there was that ever-present zeal in Bellamont's eyes. Perhaps he was ready for this after all, Ocheeva mused. She certainly couldn't think of anyone else from their current recruits who fit the requirements of the position. But the Breton did seem sad for a moment about leaving them all, if only for a moment. "Unfortunately, permanently, it seems."

"I see. Please feel free to ask someone to help you with the packing." She didn't want to delegate anyone with the task, since they were likely still finishing dinner – Blanche simply ate little and quickly – and not all of them were familiar with the further ranks in the Black Hand. "I understand that Lucien intends to leave within the hour."

Bellamont nodded. "Understood. I simply wanted to say my farewells to you and Blanche. I don't know when I might be seeing either of you again."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Lisette felt she should say something, especially since he was so helpful to her before. She couldn't really tell if she thought of him as a friend, but he was a very nice acquaintance to have. "I wish you the best of luck."

"To you as well." the Silencer said with the smallest smile as he briefly squeezed the hand she offered as a farewell. "Hopefully, Ocheeva and Vicente won't succeed in ensnaring you into joining the Brotherhood fully. It's refreshing to have someone different around."

Ocheeva frowned mildly, but didn't chide him for this rather inappropriate comment. With a final note of farewell, Mattieu Bellamont excused himself and left to pack his meager belongings to prepare for the beginning of his service to the Black Hand. Lisette, however, was still curious.

"What did he mean by that?" she asked once the heavy door was closed once more and Ocheeva's frown vanished almost entirely.

"Nothing, likely." the Argonian admitted, sighing a bit inwardly. She was one of those who were against trying to get Blanche to move from Cousin to Sister. The girl simply didn't have the mentality for it, even now. "Mattieu is talented at what he does, but he isn't as strong will-wise as one would hope in a Brother of his rank. I'm afraid this means the Black Hand is getting slightly desperate. I knew he would advance eventually, but this seems much too soon. In any case, I should probably go tell the others."

Lisette found herself feeling just the tiniest bit disgruntled that she was being kept in the dark about these things – because she knew she was – but decided to let it be for the time being.

Next week, she finally managed to complete the potion.

Ocheeva was very happy and immediately sent Telaendril off to get it to a courier. Vicente commended her on her abilities before returning to the usual paperwork, grudgingly admitting that she could go outside with the others when Gogron and Antoinetta put their minds to persuading him.

Because they were celebrating – though what, Lisette couldn't exactly guess. Her birthday was long past and it wasn't as if the assassins knew about it. it turned out that they were all waiting for her to finish the potion so that they could celebrate that and the fact that Bellamont had been promoted – the first good news in weeks.

"You didn't have to do this." Lisette protested weakly once the picnic – for that was what it was – was already organized and up and running. With the exception of Vicente, who flatly refused to come out even in full armor that Antoinetta guaranteed would protect him from the sunlight, they were almost all there.

Of course, Ocheeva looked somewhat edgy to be outside and in ordinary clothing (since it wasn't _normal_ attire, not for them) and had attempted to dissuade them all from the very idea, but there she was, along with the rest of them. she still wasn't certain how they had convinced her, though.

"Nonsense!" Antoinetta summarized immediately, grabbing some of the food. They were not directly in any residential are or anywhere near the Sanctuary; plus, save for the fact that they were a thorough racial mix, there was nothing out of the ordinary about them. Outwardly, anyway. "We're entitled to a little celebration once in a while!"

"And the fact that the person we're celebrating isn't here doesn't change that in the slightest!" Gogron added, grabbing the nearest wine bottle. Truth to be told, they all needed some good news in these troubled times for the Brotherhood, so even a frivolous celebration of a small success was more than enough for them.

"Is this wise?"

"No, but it certainly is fun." Gogron countered, dismissing any concerns.

"Besides, you have to get out of the house once in a while, Blanche, else you'll end up looking like Vicente." Telaendril hid a discreet laugh behind a cough and Ocheeva opted for drinking her wine instead of commenting, but Teinaava most certainly choked on his wine when Antoinetta noted that.

"And, of course, M'raaj Dar is out on a mission, which is the perfect reason to celebrate today." the male Argonian added once he was able to stop coughing violently. Which wasn't too soon, but it was drowned out by Gogron's voracious laughter anyway, so it didn't really matter, in the end.

"Don't worry about the ol´ kitty cat." the Orc added while Telaendril chided Teinaava about drinking too fast. "He just can't stand the fact you're actually a trained mage. He's more of a sorcerer-type guy, I gather; mostly self-trained, which is great, but still noting near actual instruction."

"So he doesn't like new people in general, not just me?" Somehow, it didn't surprise her, though she didn't have the Khajiit pegged for a complete misanthrope. Well, she did, but thought that it was purely personal bias. Still, it didn't improve her mood that much, knowing that someone else would have to take up the burden eventually.

"Definitely not just you. Just you wait – we should be getting new recruits soon, I heard, and then, he'll forget about you straight away."

The new recruits never came; but reason to forget about everything did. In three days, the Emperor of Cyrodiil was dead.


	20. Mist

**o.O.o**

**Mist**

**o.O.o**

This was not the best way to end a day, Lisette thought as she glanced at the two wizards flanking her as they walked up the mountain. Both of them were equally clench-jawed and avoided eye contact with her, partly because they weren't in the mood to offer even a pretense at small-talk, but mostly because both of them were from among those who followed any higher authority without question, hoping for swift advancement (read: licked Caranya's boots so hard the upper layer of them was about to come off) and thus had her pegged for a Necromancer. Oh, and they were weaker than her, though they would never admit as much.

The Emperor and his sons had been murdered just about two weeks ago. A few days ago, she had been in the Sanctuary, actually enjoying herself. She continued her brewing of potions, her studies, even her occasional sparring with Antoinetta, which was beginning to grow on her somewhat. The lowest point of her mood had vanished beyond the horizon; things were looking up. The image of being nothing more than the personal magician of the Brotherhood was becoming more real by the minute… and, she had to admit, more appealing. She told this all to Vicente when he remarked that she seemed much happier nowadays.

Proof of all this was that she felt warmth spread through her when she received a vampiric smile that would have unnerved anyone even remotely normal – at least. But Lisette's standards for normalcy would likely never match those of ordinary people ever again.

"I am glad for you, dearest girl."

His dark eyes shone brightly; only through experience did Lisette notice that it wasn't merely happiness there, but cunning as well. She was still being assessed, but not appraised, thankfully. She didn't receive any physical gesture of comfort – Lisette knew well that the vampire was many times stronger than her and he wasn't one for such displays – but it was very reassuring to hear the pride in his voice.

She had won them over, all of them – with the continuing exception of M'raaj Dar, but at least he had to be less spiteful and grouchier when they were in the company of others, which meant most of the time – and realized that at some point, she had shifted from being Lisette Lemieux to being Blanche completely.

She was the last of them all to notice this.

Lisette Lemieux was a shrinking violet of a bookworm who shied away from social contact beyond the academic and worked her way up in the Mages Guild through her knowledge and the fact that the more influential parties either perceived her as lacking ambition to assume a post of significance or knew too little of her.

As Blanche, she smiled more often, looked people in the eyes whenever speaking to them and wasn't afraid to stand her ground, if need be.

"I sort of regret that Mattieu had to leave now." Telaendril remarked one afternoon while Lisette carefully dipped her arrowheads in a poison she had brewed, thinking nothing of it. The Bosmer was now almost always on patrol somewhere, meaning that she made rounds around the province every week for a few days.

The Breton, her ash-colored eyebrows knitting together in confusion, looked up for the briefest moment. "Why?"

"I was sort of hoping he'd get his foot out of his mouth for once and do the sensible thing… but that's Mattieu for you."

"Huh?"

Telaendril could almost roll her eyes, but didn't, out of kindness. Over the past few months of knowing Blanche, she had also come to know Lisette Lemieux – who, in the Bosmer's mind, now only represented the scholarly side of the mage. And Lisette Lemieux, though academically highly intelligent, lacked the social awareness of a young woman her age.

"Oh, nothing, dear." The Bosmer waved the question away. It would only confuse her more, and besides, the only reason why she approved of it a bit was that it surely would have stopped Blanche from leaving should she decide on that. Not that it seemed to have much chance of happening. "Maybe it's better luck for you anyway."

In the end, it probably was.

Lisette blinked, shrugged and forgot the comment within the hour.

The calamity began days later, upon receiving summons into Vicente's study. That in itself was not an unusual thing by any means; she and the vampire often spoke at length when neither were busy or after meals (and Lisette found herself missing not a few of these to prolong these conversations). The vampire was as learned as he was ancient and certainly proved to be a more engaging teacher than most of the academy instructors, thought the topics of their many conversations were often quite far from academia.

They greeted each other cordially once the vampire looked up from his mountainous (and almost completely finished) pile of paperwork and acknowledged her presence. For a while, they spoke of recent events – the royal deaths and the events in Kvatch. An Oblivion gate had opened in the city not long ago, practically leveling the city to the ground.

On the other hand, it wasn't particularly good for their business either.

"Everyone seems to think that the Daedra are going to kill everyone anyway." Vicente noted, signing his last parchment with a sharp flourish of his quill; the utmost show of frustration such a dignified person might show.

"Gogron isn't taking that so well." Lisette couldn't help but admire his impeccably elegant writing, even when it was obvious he'd much rather set the parchment aflame with his glare than read or sign the damned thing. "It likely feels like an insult to his skills of massive slaughter."

One pale eyebrow rose, along with both reddish eyes to meet hers.

"_Skills_?" It was easy to guess what he thought of the matter, but Lisette wasn't foolish enough to give a response that would allow him to vent his anger on her or the absent Orc.

"The Daedra found even the Sanctuary there?" she asked instead, having heard nothing on that particular subject yet.

"Part of it, at least. Or perhaps some fool decided to play hero. At this point, it hardly matters."

"Do they need a healer in Kvatch?" If he hadn't been in the middle or reading a rather tedious sentence, no doubt Vicente would have fixed her with a rather tired glare.

"Unless you can resurrect the dead, there is no need to endanger yourself there. Now," the vampire shifted without any kind of obvious movement, but looked a little more at peace with the situation. "What do you need of me?"

"Actually, I thought you needed something of me. Badly, since you sent M'raaj Dar to fetch me."

The vampire's face remained unchanged, with just the tiniest twinkle of amusement in his voice betraying his true feelings on the matter – and only because he allowed it, no doubt. "It is the one way to get your rapt attention." From one of the many drawers of his desk, he produced a formal-looking scroll with a seal in red wax, handing it to Lisette. It looked official and important, but not Mages Guild. "Here – this letter is for you."

Aside from Lucien, Lisette corresponded with no one – and even that contact ceased since he had become speaker. "Who knows I am staying here?"

The scratching of the quill resumed for a few moments and Lisette got the distinct impression that she was part of some private joke between Vicente and the sender of the letter, though she certainly couldn't guess what it might be.

"Let us just say that I am not the only one who, ah… enjoys his evenings – and not the first you encountered, it seems." Lisette blinked, but as the seal on the scroll came under the candlelight, recognized the symbol. "You tend to attract odd associates."

"How…? Never mind, I suppose I don't really want to know." she amended. Whatever relationship there might be between the only two civil vampires she had ever encountered – excluding Seridur, who had been quite rude and daring in his attempted assault on her – she didn't think it was suitable or profitable for her to know. "It seems that I am required in Skingrad. May I go?"

"You are no prisoner here; you may come and go as you please." Vicente pointed out, as if it was the most natural and obvious thing in the world. And it was, ultimately; Lisette just had difficulty grasping the fact that here, she wasn't part of any complex hierarchy that dictated what she could or couldn't do. But surely Vicente was her superior, if only formally; besides, it was a courtesy. "However, I cannot spare anyone to accompany you this time." the vampire noted. What was left unsaid – that she was likely still being searched for by the Guild – was understood between them both.

There was a bright side to things, however. "I'll teleport easier on my own."

"Do send my regards to Janus, will you?" Vicente had already returned to his papers, as if nothing had happened. He did, however, sound a little less like the sharp edge of a dagger as he went on. "And Blanche? Please make certain you disguise yourself properly."

"Of course." The corners of Lisette's lips lifted up, successfully making her appear her proper age, unstained with what the fools might call wisdom of the passing years. "Thank you."

"Hurry back, then." Vicente noted, quite content.

Because make haste the fledgling would, no doubt, returning to her nest the moment the task ahead of her was done.

Now, as she led the way – only in the view of one who knew nothing of her predicament and the danger this posed to her – up the mountain to meet her challenge, Lisette's mind continued to wander to the days of her freedom and, surprisingly, happiness. It was the irony of life that assassins who are displayed to the world as having cruel, unforgiving hearts of black were dearer to her now than an entire academy of the finest minds in Cyrodiil. Their homicidal occupation and traditions aside, she saw them as not killers, but people.

And for that reason, she had been glad to be alone when fate had caught up with her.

As she climbed through the rocks, carefully avoiding any surge of magic, for fear of alerting their target's finely-honed senses, the one person she continually recalled was Lucien. How disappointed with her he would be once he found out; how angry he would be once he realized the full extent of the damage… and how the Black Hand would react to what they could only see as his failure, though the fault lay with her.

After Bellamont had gone, she saw him only once, briefly. This was some time before the Oblivion gates began to open all across Cyrodiil, but only a day or so before Kvatch. The visit wasn't supposed to take place at all, Lisette found out later on, but she certainly didn't forget the strange look Antoinetta gave her when Lucien asked to speak to her in private. It wasn't common practice, she knew, but, all things considered, her case was… special.

Lachance rarely had a chance to be pleased about something nowadays; Blanche was possibly the sole exception. She was one of them now, in all but the most essential way; his pet project, really, or perhaps just his pet, as some of the Black Hand might comment. In the fullest sense of the word; something to care about, though it had no significance, to watch with enjoyment without any reason and to mold and train in one's own image, if one so wished. A very useful pet, yes, but a pet nonetheless.

A pet without a leash whose loyalties were still under question from some.

"There are… some among the Black Hand that believe that you are a liability; that perhaps you are the traitor." he noted once the necessary sharp-edged pleasantries and safe topics had been exhausted.

To him, the idea was preposterous, laughable, even. Blanche had neither reason nor will to betray them now, when they were her only remaining sanctuary. Lachance knew this, therefore he trusted her enough to tell her of the possible existence of the traitor. Strange to trust someone because she was _not_ one of them, but no one ever said Sithis didn't have a sense of humor.

Lisette, for her part, blinked owlishly, her blue eyes darkening as she bit down the words rushing to her tongue. Isolation from most etiquette had given her boldness she didn't know she possessed, but insulting the Black Hand to one of its members´ face was not the way into his good books.

"Me?" her tone was incredulous, but Lachance caught the hint of her true opinion on the matter, without the censorship. She was angry at the suggestion of disloyalty. In most, it would have seemed pathetically dramatic. She wasn't so conventional, thankfully. "That is the most laughable idea I have ever heard. Lucien, I know only those of the Brotherhood you have introduced me to. I know only one Speaker, that being yourself."

"Yes, and that is what is troubling."

"Are you saying your Sanctuary is being targeted?" She was a clever one, too, though she was only recently gaining knowledge of the real world. A pet was a bad title for her; a child was perhaps more appropriate. Spare the rod; spoil the child, then? Again, a wrong comparison.

"The former Speaker was killed on a mission under mysterious circumstances." _The one who had been introduced to you,_ his dark gaze added, at least in Lisette's mind. Reading the Speaker's expressions was one of her specialties, something not even Ocheeva was able to do and Vicente only at times. That came with the knowledge of having caught him off-guard once, she supposed. "And various members of the Family have died…" _And a connection to you can be established, from the correct point of view._

"So it's true, then, this talk of a traitor."

She didn't appear shocked; perhaps she simply didn't realize the implications. "In a manner of speaking."

"Why are you answering all these questions, then, if I am the traitor?" Ah, _now_ she was being suspicious. Considering all the angles, but from the point of view of a child; simply with curiosity. "Are you going to kill me now?"

"You don't seem to be frightened by the prospect of impending death."

Lisette shrugged. One could have nightmares about dying only after so many near-death experiences. Somewhere, she had crossed the line, she supposed. "No, I guess not. Any of your subordinates could have killed me at any moment I spent in the Sanctuary. You could have killed me a dozen times within the last few minutes." she pointed out smartly, rationally. "I am no assassin, Lucien, but even I know that if you wanted to kill me, you could have done so anytime you wished."

The Speaker almost smiled. Perhaps he was pleased, as she was a clever one, the woman-child, assessing the situation with calm precision. Perhaps it would have been a wry gesture, since he could suggest that she always had one way of subduing him, if she was quick enough – which was a fair guess.

"You aren't the traitor, Blanche. Your death would serve no purpose. That is what I have been trying to tell the Black Hand. For the most part, I have succeeded."

"I have never harmed the Family." Lisette noted firmly, staring him into the eyes with an unblinking gaze. One could almost think she was trying to hypnotize the taller assassin; there was conviction in the look. She didn't add that she never would, because such promises couldn't be kept.

It wouldn't even restore her credibility if she were to join them, simply because the Black Hand would perceive it as an attempt to get closer to them. And Blanche wouldn't join the Brotherhood before she was ready, else it would ruin her.

"Is it much farther?"

The voice of one of her companions tore her away from the memory of the penetrating stare she had received instead of an answer to that final remark. The Valus Mountains reappeared in her field of vision and she realized they had stopped for a while. She had been walking without any real urge or conviction, because she knew what awaited them at the end of their journey. Her guards proceeded to study the map they had. The only spell they were using was the one masking them, though it wasn't strong; they didn't need to restrain her power, as teleporting away would only result in more trouble for her in the end.

They were battlemages, the two of them, but neither Ivar nor Merete could likely yet match their skill – an Argonian and a Nord, both keeping up the pretense of gruffness and indifference, pointedly ignoring her whenever possible, as if they could catch some kind of disease from her. It wasn't too inspiring, admittedly, but Lisette was rather glad that she didn't have to make awkward conversation.

The forest around them was tranquil, almost silent, and Lisette thought she could see the remains of some kind of fortress not far in the distance. They were above Hero Hill by that point, but Lisette didn't mind the climb. Cheydinhal was very close still, but leading a couple of Guild mages to the very Sanctuary of the Dark Brotherhood – to their deaths – wasn't what she wished or intended to do.

She remembered her arrival to the now-distant Skingrad; she couldn't visit her friends at the Guildhall and avoided the inn where Sinderion resided like the plague. Her red robes drew some mild attention, but with the hood over her head, her face remained in shadow just enough to make one doubt her identity for the moment it took her to slip in and out of the shadows.

Just like the Count of Skingrad, she thought with a hint of wryness. But she couldn't disguise her facial appearance, since the steward of the castle had to recognize her as the one to meet the Count. This time, she was allowed into the inner chambers of the palace and it was… wonderful. But devoid of life. Empty, just like the days of its master, it seemed. The Argonian woman left as soon as Lisette entered the main dining hall, where a luxurious meal was prepared for her at the seat next to the head of the table. No other cutlery or crockery was prepared, so Lisette took it as a sign to eat.

No sooner than she had finished half of her food did the master of the castle appear, looking even more imposing when not willingly taking on a horde of rogue Necromancers on his own. He gave a thin, polite half-smile – or something that was to resemble that, if Lisette interpreted the slightest movement of his facial muscles correctly – and sat down at the head of the table once their pleasantries were over.

"I greet you once more, mage. Does the title still apply, or should I address you by some other one?" No words were spent on how the letter had reached her or where it had found her. Lisette knew better than to ask.

"It still applies in every sense of the word." she said mildly, lowering her chalice. Already she suspected that she wasn't being treated to a royal feast simply because of charity. There was something other at stake here. "Your letter said you had information for me, Your Grace?"

"Regarding our mutual friends, the Necromancers." The Count was a frank man when not restricted by the formalities of court, which, in combination with his obvious condition, was rather intimidating. Still, he was a person Lisette knew she could put her faith into, if only because of Vicente's indirect assurance. "You seemed capable of holding your own against them during our last encounter. I've decided to trust you – for the most part – with a most delicate matter."

And there it was, without a pretext or without negotiation. "Quid pro quo, is it, then?"

"Surprised?" the Count smiled, but it was a dark expression, lining his face with the centuries he no doubt possessed despite his apparent youth. "Nothing is for free, mage."

She paid the price with ease; a summoner of Daedra was more than a match for a few rabid vampires, without having to be present at the ordeal. Then, it was simply a matter of sending the hunters that had come for them away, giving them proof of their target's demise. All the while, she remained at a distance from them, returning to the castle before the day was over. The Count was more pleased than he cared to admit with the discretion she had exercised.

"I did not expect you to persuade the hunters to leave like that."

The implication wasn't lost on Lisette, who refused to back down from the indirect challenge. The last time she stood before the Count, she had been small and frightened, with an assassin at her side. "I'm not a formal part of the Brotherhood, if Your Grace is referring to that."

Hassildor didn't press the issue further, nor did he reveal his thoughts on that. But it did appear intriguing to him that the Dark Brotherhood would shelter a renegade mage, no matter what the case. "Regardless of your standing with them or anyone else, the Necromancers are your enemy. You should therefore know that Mannimarco has returned."

"The name means little to me." Lisette frowned.

"You are young and the Mages keep their secrets well. But it will mean something to Traven, should you bring him this information."

"I thought you disliked our Guild, Your Grace."

"Pompous scholars are but a mildly irking annoyance in comparison to the Necromancers." the Count said dismissively. "You have improved my opinion of the former to some small degree, but you'd be better served improving their chances in the coming conflict."

Lisette didn't really know what to make of things as she was leaving the castle. Things weren't evolving in a way she would wish. Part of her wanted to be with the Mages and tell them what was happening, warn them, but a selfish voice in her head was also saying that she had no obligation to someone so quick to condemn her as the Guild.

She resolved to dwell on these things only after a consultation with Vicente and the others, a decision that proved to be both wise and foolish. Wise, because it granted her some peace of mind. Foolish, because in the end, it wasn't her choice that mattered. She supposed she should have guessed that she wasn't the only one who would come to the Count for help and information, but what she was faced with almost caused her to trip over her own feet.

To see Raminus Polus and an entourage of two wizards at his side enter the main hall of the castle was an impressive, but highly alarming sight.

Lisette tried her best not to stop her stride, even though a jolt seemed to past through her upon seeing the familiar face of her once-tutor.

Calm. Peace. Tranquil.

Breathe.

She focused her attention on the mundane tasks related to walking; raising her foot, moving it forward, positioning it for a safe and steady landing… and again and again and again.

Her robes were her own, in contrast to those worn by the mages red in color. The hood shrouded her face in shadow.

Down the stairs. One step at a time, even though she wished to run.

She kept her head down, almost obscuring her own vision, but there was no deviation to the trajectory of her path. No one would stop her; they knew better.

No one would know her; no one here knew her as who she was now.

Raminus Polus glanced at her, but didn't see into her eyes or her mind, thus moved on within the span of a few seconds. When he was past her, the red-robed figure finally raised her head an inch, breathing a sigh of relief.

It took a second.

"Lisette!"

A cry of a voice she knew too well. The name spoken was like the crack of a whip in her ears. And then, someone stood before her, someone she knew well, and she made the mistake of looking up. It was Merete; with a great smile that had certainty added to it once her recognition of the other woman's countenance was assured.

"It is you!" Arms closed around the smaller woman, trapping her on the spot.

Merete was… had been… was… the best friend she had had during her studies at the University. Enthusiastic, eager, happy, she knew nothing of the life Lisette had brushed during their separation. She knew nothing of the accusations sprung against her – they weren't public knowledge, which would have made the Guild seem paranoid.

But Raminus Polus knew almost all and saw her there, looking past her hood and into her eyes. Duty and friendship were often mentioned together, but that day, the Master-Wizard was forced to choose between the two.

Perhaps, in a different place, he might have chosen a different path. But Raminus Polus was a representative of the Mages Guild in a high function and thus he wasn't able to offer compassion that would conflict with fairness.

The entrapment spell was sprung before Merete had the chance to release her. the Nord was forced to throw her arms back and away from the jar-like bubble that formed around Lisette, the spell that most represented a paralyzing trap without actually be one, holding her in place.

Merete, unaware what might be happening, began protesting, saying that she recognized the robes now, that it was Lisette Lemieux, not some kind of enemy, but she needn't have bothered.

The Master-Wizard took a few steps closer, discerning the countenance beneath the hood once more to be certain. "Miss Lemieux?"

Lisette didn't give a start this time at the name, only looked up with a semblance of calm. Inside, something very close to panic was tying her stomach into knots.

"Master-Wizard." she replied, willing her voice to stop trembling. For the most part, she succeeded, at least, until the very last moment.

"I'm sorry."

**o.O.o**

And so it was that she found herself back in the Imperial City, back at the University, though this time it didn't provide her any comfort. Least comforting of all was that, as soon as they were ready, several of the most important Council members assembled – including, to her surprise, Traven himself, looking tired and morose about the whole situation – to, apparently, look into these accusations. Lisette knew that it was more of a decision on her fate than an investigation.

She looked at each of them as they spoke, astonishing even herself with her train of thought. How to best escape, if needed? She couldn't fight them all; that was absurd. She couldn't teleport away until they released the spell on her – willingly or by dying.

But that was insane! They would view another escape as confirmation of these ludicrous theories. She had to stay. Stay and fight… in another way.

"As you can see, this obvious escape and shrinking from duty only proves Magician Lemieux's alliance with these cultists!" Caranya, who had been the first to speak, had apparently finished her tirade about why Lisette was a Necromancer. As the prosecutor of sorts in this mock-trial, she was to present her accusations first, but the winning sneer behind her courteous expression suggested that she thought the battle was already won.

Four judges, only one of her… unfair odds, but Lisette supposed that if life were fair, she wouldn't be caught up in these events in the first place. That Traven was there personally confirmed something to her, however; Caranya viewed her as a pest (at the least) or as a threat (at the most) due to the trust the Arch-Mage had placed into her by giving her a mission that would have been better-given to someone more prominent and strong. The Altmer thought in very much this way; because she didn't see Lisette's significance, she logically reasoned that Traven must have secrets she wasn't privy to. That would be taken care of – first, she had to get rid of the catalyst of these events.

"Magician… why didn't you return after this attack?"

"Because there _was_ no attack!" Caranya stepped in before Lisette could scramble any kind of defense or even manage to look Traven in the eye. This desperation showed the Breton that Telaendril's information wasn't faulty; Caranya indeed had a great interest in seeing her condemned and trialed. "This is an obvious fabrication."

"You've said enough, Caranya. I am asking the accused. Magician Lemieux?" Traven's eyes remained fixed on Lisette throughout his response, igniting more anger in the Altmer. This meant that the manipulation wouldn't be easy on this occasion. Either the little girl was more significant than she thought or she had made a grievous miscalculation somewhere along the line.

Fortunately for Lisette, she had been given enough time to fabricate a few persuasive and plausible lies, incorporating bits of truth into them. "I was worried that there might be another attack ready to spring waiting at the University, so I decided to do the unexpected to confuse possible assailants."

_The Dark Brotherhood cannot and will not risk sending its operatives on a foolhardy rescue mission…_ she remembered the words. _If you are caught, you are on your own; you_'_re dead. If you are caught, but survive by implicating the Brotherhood… you're dead._

This was a weak argument, allowing another stab to reveal just how wide the chink in her armor was. And never let it be said that Caranya wasted an opportunity. "And moved all your things – research and equipment included – away from the university within a night."

"Caranya. You have made your case already." Irlav Jarol pointed out when it was obvious Traven wouldn't even bother acknowledging the remark before Lisette was given a chance to explain herself. He, too, really didn't understand why such a minor matter as an accusation had to be trialed by four Council members, but his colleague seemed convinced that the Magician – a fine worker and scholar, as he was able to tell by reputation – was party to the Necromancers. Let the girl speak."

"Very well, then; assuming she can get a coherent sentence out."

"Where have you been all this time, Lisette?" Raminus Polus repeated the query, studying her mildly. After they had "arrested" her, they were forced to explain themselves to the castle steward, who alerted the Count of Skingrad to the proceedings (for good or ill). Polus still wondered why Lisette had been meeting Hassildor like that. Did that mean the vampire count was party to the Necromancers, despite his claims to the contrary? Or did that mean that the accusation was wrong?

They came to Hassildor because they had heard he possessed information on Necromancers and, in the end, found out more than they wished. The news Lisette bore – that Mannimarco had returned – was known to them as well now, to much astonishment on all sides.

"With friends." Lisette answered simply, speaking the truth on this matter. "And family."

"As far as I'm aware, you have no family in Cyrodiil, Miss Lemieux."

Raminus knew Lisette quite well, as far as a professional relationship allowed – or so he believed. He knew much of her life at the University, of her friendships with the battlemages and even of the whispers passing among the young – and old, for that matter – mages, mostly the female ones, that the bookish magician often received visits in the form of a richly-dressed man who didn't look like her in the least, therefore crushing the hopes that he might be a familial relation of hers.

He could imagine perfectly logical conclusions to this, but it was strange that Lisette didn't mention any names; if the family was wealthy, they could easily assure her innocence through sheer status. That wasn't something he approved of, but in the case of this girl, he was willing to make an exception.

Caranya up with his train of thought, to their chagrin. "Perhaps all the cultists refer to Mannimarco as "father" as well."

"You tell me, Councilor." Lisette couldn't really believe that the words came out of her mouth a second after she had spoken them, but then again, she couldn't comprehend quite a lot of things that happened that day.

"What is this impertinence?" Caranya shot up from her very seat, regal and just as intimidating as any Altmer that was angry with someone. "You dare accuse _me_ of Necromancy? Preposterous."

But angry though she might be, Lisette knew that harming her right now wouldn't serve the Altmer's purposes at all. She decided to take a small gamble in that order – perhaps anger would reveal the truth. "No more than your charge against me, Councilor, I think. You make an accusation based on one questionable witness." She shrugged lightly, seeing her accuser seethe beneath her regal exterior. "In the end, it's simply your word against mine."

"There is truth in what you say. Arch-Mage, if I may, I would propose a solution to our predicament."

Traven nodded, for the first time looking away from Lisette. The Breton released a breath she didn't know she had been holding when even Caranya redirected her glare. "Please do, Raminus."

"Actions speak louder than words. Miss Lemieux has never given me or any of her associates cause to doubt her dedication to the Guild or her work. I propose she be involved more closely with our efforts to stop the Necromancers."

"Cooperation under surveillance in exchange for freedom, you mean?"

Traven contemplated the idea, finding it partly to his liking, partly useless. He, personally, didn't really believe the poor girl was a Necromancer – especially not after all her help to their cause. But there was something she wasn't telling them, obviously, so he had no choice but to go along with it. Besides, she had gone a bit far in accusing Caranya, though Traven couldn't help but think that the Altmer was being a bit too zealous with her condemnations of Lisette.

She was just as fervent about accepting this particular plan, it seemed, since she asked to have the word for the moment.

"Let us go one step further, perhaps. We have reports of that Necromancer somewhere in the mountains, no? Also a researcher, or so they say, though of a different kind. If your protégée could subdue that one, her devotion to our cause would be much clearer."

This time, it was Raminus who leapt to his feet, fully understanding the dangers of this. "Sending one Magician against an experienced Necromancer is madness!"

"She will have guards, of course. And do not tell me that you don't have faith in the girl who so _skillfully_ apprehended that Necromancer in Skingrad."

"Count Hassildor will vouch for her sincerity."

"The word of an undead hardly has standing in this matter, wouldn't you say? And this is an inner-guild manner; it has nothing to do with the Count."

And so it was that Lisette ended up where she was now – climbing the mountains near Cheydinhal, with two guards flanking her, heading off to face a challenge of which she knew next to nothing. She didn't understand why she was being sent after another Necromancer, or why Traven chose to help her by having her rigorously train and promote her to Warlock – much to Caranya's protest – before sending her on her way with newfound knowledge and skill.

"It is a promotion long-overdue. I have plans for you, Miss Lemieux." he had said to her before sending her to her guards. "Complete your mission, return safely and you might advance further."

But as Lisette entered Leafront Cave, her tale was to be halted for a while before she was allowed to reenter the world.


	21. Chalk

Sorry for the lengthy pause, but this chapter was fiendishly difficult to write… so yeah. It was supposed to include Lucien initially, but that would likely ruin the impact of the whole scene. This chapter is kind of dark, so you have been warned. This was actually the initial subplot for "Anyone can Listen" Lisette/Blanche was created for. So I hope you enjoy it and stay tuned for the next chapter, which should feature Lucien! Bonus e-cookies for people who can make any guess as to how things are going to go on from now.

**o.O.o**

**Chalk**

**o.O.o**

The assignment, in itself, was an obvious trap and the fact that she was forced to walk into it like this was one of the things that frustrated Lisette no end. Any kind of pondering she went through during the journey towards Leafrot Cave led to no solution to this predicament, forcing her to turn her thoughts toward how she might survive this encounter.

If this was an enemy the Necromancers were sending her against to get her killed, it would be certainly a great challenge. The only specifics she had was that the opponent was a Necromancer as well. Whether it was one of their own or an opposing faction that didn't agree with their views was of no consequence to her at the moment, though the latter was more probable, from a certain point of view.

Without information, strategy or proper spells, she would be easy prey. The two battlemages she was with were of questionable worth to her in this case – she couldn't fight her way from them, since that would serve only as confirmation of her guilt to all, but aside from their superior constitutions, she didn't really believe that they had more knowledge of Necromancy than she did.

"All right, here we are." the less gruff of her guides announced when they practically stood before the entrance to the cave. Lisette rather hoped his talent for stating the obvious was offset by his talent with Destruction. "Lemieux, you stay close and try not to get in the way." He gave the Breton a pointed glare, as if he could intimidate her with the threat of Necromancers so near. "This might be your punishment, but we're not getting killed if you mess up."

Lisette said nothing. Chills of moderate levels were passing through her, but she struggled to remember all the Dark Brotherhood had taught her about stealth missions and assassinations. She had never thought that a day would come when she would wish that she had taken more of their lessons.

They didn't even discuss a plan; there was none to be had. Lisette rather suspected that the battlemages were used to fights where sheer might alone was enough to overwhelm an opponent or there was no time for an efficient plan to be created. The two of them simply exchanged gruff nods and stalked into the cave, leaving her to follow them.

They were doing this for glory as well, she realized. Both of them were of a lower rank than her, apparently, and outclassing her at such an important mission would probably reap them great awards. Again, Lisette briefly considered bolting – the journey to Cheydinhal wasn't that great from here – but thought better of it. The poor fools would die if she didn't do something! They were already too stupid to bind her properly, so that was one reason. Besides, she had to expose Caranya… but first, she would save these two. They were pawns only.

Casting invisibility on herself, Lisette took a deep breath and entered the cave. She knew she would regret this, though.

Though she had rushed through the entrance a mere ten seconds after her companions, Lisette could see neither of them. Quietly, she cast darkvision on herself, but all it helped her with was seeing the muddy wall of the cave in front of her. She didn't dare use any more magic and calling out was out of the question. There was only one way down, though, and for a second, she thought she saw the hem of a mage's robe move.

A few dozen paces down, she found herself in a relatively brightly lit underground chamber that bore every resemblance to both a library and a lab. In fact, the books on the crude wooden shelves were so meticulously organizes, Tar-Meena would likely envy the resident master of archives.

Not entirely consciously, Lisette reached out for the nearest book open on the table and began examining it carefully. _The Path of Transcendence_, it read on the cover. That had to do something with Necromancy and lich transformations, judging from what her instincts were telling her.

Truthfully enough, it was a journal of Celedaen, if the writing spoke true, involving his experiments with "true" lichdom. Apparently, he sneered at the practices of the cult that was giving so much trouble to the Mages Guild, believing himself supreme to their ways, planning and yearning to have them as groveling servants at his feet.

She didn't get much further than that in her reading. There was a dreadful scream that echoed through the cave. The book tumbled out of her hands with a louder crash than she intended just as the scream died. Her focus slipped, though she didn't notice it, her invisibility flickered for a moment or so.

This series of events, timed impossibly wrong, was what caused the beginnings of her predicament.

Lisette quickly crouched to pick up the journal and return it to its proper place. She didn't think; she didn't know what she was going to do. In retrospect, even bothering with covering up her presence was a ridiculous notion – if the others had been discovered, any such event could be attributed to their clumsiness.

But for her, it was an automated reflex. It was only when she heard the low-pitched moan that she realized she was in trouble. A figure approached through the corridor her companions had taken, but it couldn't be either of them. It wasn't nearly as tall or bulky and there was a vile odor spreading from it.

There was a stiffness to its walk and the sound it was making was like a low rumble from beyond the grave. The mage didn't need to see any more to understand what she was faced with.

The book fell from her hands, but this time, she didn't bother with disguising the noise it made. It made no difference now.

She cast the first spell she could think of. A spasm of lightning went through the zombie, without any kind of effect.

And, unsurprisingly, it served to stir up the other thralls behind the first that she didn't notice immediately. Of course there were others. Of course Necromancers kept thralls to serve their bidding! But the spell… why wasn't this working?

The zombies only sped up their movements, rushing towards her en masse, as quickly as the tunnel allowed them. Lisette, somewhat worried right now – though mostly for the others – began casting spell after spell in a colorful sequence of sparks and flashes, shifting from school to school of magic with an automatic precision.

_Now, who can tell me what the appropriate defense against Necromancy is? _She heard one of her instructors speaking in her mind. _Undead are resilient against almost every spell and if you have the ridiculous idea of taking them head-on, then you better hope your healing powers are stellar, because most thralls carry very potent diseases._

Fire and light. The undead inhabit dark and wet and cold places, meaning that they resent things that lack that.

In a slight panic, Lisette hurled a fireball at the nearest zombie, hitting it square in the chest. The spell went out weaker than she had hoped, though; it was a miracle it didn't fizzle, with her concentration so weakened.

It had the desired effect, though; the zombie moaned in what would be interpreted as pain in a living being and stumbled backwards. Lisette stumbled back and looked around frantically for something to use. If her magic was only enough to stun it, she needed something more physical to keep it off-balance. No weaponry in sight, she reached for the better alternative – the nearest torch. The zombie straightened up and she, holding the torch in both hands, swung as hard as she could at the creature. Its head, already hanging more or less by a thread only, went flying off into the wall with a sickening crack and the body ran around in circles as the fire engulfed it.

This ensured that most of the others were lit as well, especially once Lisette had figured out the trajectory the first one would follow and managed to get close enough to stick the torch into another one and start a real fire.

She stumbled back, away from the rapidly expanding fire. It was one of the more unfortunately ostentatious things she had been forced to do – some of the perishing zombies were getting too close to the bookshelves, which was the first thing that caught her attention. The destruction of books of any kind was something she couldn't approve of; besides, there was the chance that she might yet use some of them as evidence to support her case.

Then, of course, there were the several potentially explosive alchemic ingredients on the nearby very wooden, very flammable table.

Conjuring up water from thin air was more difficult than conjuring up ice, due to the differences in the intent of the magic and the temperatures required. Also, attack spells were usually summoned only for a little while, while she needed to douse the flames.

The first attempt at an incantation failed, understandably; Lisette had never been an expert with this kind of spells. When she conjured, it was usually summoning or teleportation, not creating something merely out of the elements at her disposal. That and the fact that fire and water, being polar opposites, didn't take too well to being summoned one after the other in such a close sequence.

It took longer than she would have wished, but she managed to freeze both the table and everything on it – the water still wouldn't come, but at least these weren't shards of ice to be hurled at an enemy. The flames that sizzled and hissed when they melted the ice and died with it.

By then, the majority of the zombies were fully immobile or scorched, no longer even crawling anymore and the adrenaline pounding in Lisette's ears subsided. She felt the calm settling into her mind, as it usually was after a battle that had gone well.

A moment later, she was reminded of her purpose here when there was a flash of light and a powerful pressure on her back that sent her flying towards the very table she had frozen. The breath was pushed out of her lungs in a single gasp as she doubled over, but it was the ice that saved her. By slipping off the table just as she tried to steady herself, she narrowly avoided the second flash of light that destroyed any remains of frost on the wood.

She rolled over quickly, but didn't have the air for the incantation for a summoning that would give her time for a proper Destruction spell. The Paralysis spell she gasped out was literally knocked aside with a force so violent and precise that the magic was practically shattered.

"Ah, some scrap of actual magical ability?"

Black robes… though not like those of the Dark Brotherhood. The voice that accompanied the almost skeletal frame of the figure was shrill and chilly, rather like the swift cut of a razor.

There was some desperate attempt at a Destruction spell through magical power and will alone, since there was no time for any incantation or energy gathering, but it was squashed flat the moment a hand bony enough to belong to a skeleton – if not for the sharp voice accompanying it – delved mercilessly into her hair and pulled her up to her knees, at least.

Somewhere along the line, she screamed in pain, or perhaps due to the sight of the yellowing insignia of Necromancy on the man's robes. He was an Altmer, impossibly tall, with harsh, angular features and eyes to match his manner of speaking. Like Caranya, perhaps, except there was no illusion of friendliness here. The elf she was facing held his intentions on his sleeve and proudly so.

"How peculiar. I thought you bumbling children had even that much stripped from you to become half-decent thralls."

Lightning, perhaps. Or something else. All that Lisette felt was that she tried to break free from the grip that showed no signs of being relinquished with another weak spell and received a spell in return.

"Not begging for mercy either… well, we shall have to remedy things, won't we? Hmm…. Not enough muscle to remain even half-decent dead…"

Finally, there was another flash and the hand supporting her was gone, forcing her to drop back to all fours. Celedaen examined the deep cut on his forearm with only irritation-laden eyes, ignoring the blood tickling down his ashen skin. One had to wonder if he felt pain at all, since he cast a spell the moment the first droplet prickled away and onto the floor.

Lisette quickly raised her arms in a shield spell that flared into existence upon being struck with the aggressive magic. It held up against the onslaught – if only barely – fending off the crackles and sparks of the heavy elemental attack that simply kept coming and coming. However, gifted and learned though the girl might be, she didn't and would never have the luxury of a mer to build up power or unravel the secrets of magic not yet discovered.

Which is not to say that Celedaen possessed either unlimited power or unimaginable secrets; in fact, neither could be further from the truth. But he did have the endurance and tenacity brought upon him by months and months and months of desperate research in a mud-ridden cave, with only his maddened determination to keep him going. And, in that moment, this proved to be stronger than Lisette and her magic.

The reddish shield, glowing, cracked in the middle and split into a thousand pieces, rippling away like disturbed waters and vanishing in flickers of ruby. Then, there was nothing in the world stopping the lightning spell from hitting her full-force before she could even think of putting up a new shield.

The world went black for Lisette Lemieux and didn't return back into color or shape until in a few hours, though it seemed merely an instant to her.

She was brutally awoken from her state by the tip of a mud-ridden boot prodding her not-so-gently in the stomach. At first, she had no thought about where she might be, but it all returned to her in one brief, horrible recollection.

A shredded, thin blanket was all that separated her from the hardness of the stone floor. Her wounds, whatever they might have been, had apparently been treated – poorly, so that some pain should yet remain, but sufficiently as to prevent life-threatening risk.

"Urgh!"

"Get up!" the shrill voice she remembered commanded, forcing her up to her feet like a marionette. Celedaen looked rather satisfied with himself, though the haughty look he gave her was the very essence of a sneer. "I've made my decision about your fate, little worm. I require servants for my work here… capable ones, able to follow my instruction. You appear to have some basic knowledge of arcane theory. You will suffice."

The two mages that were with her were lying in a heap of limbs and bodies not too far away, obviously waiting for the most malevolent of resurrections at the hands of the Necromancer. It was enough to make Lisette want to retch, but her limbs were weak and her stomach empty – she hadn't eaten for quite a while.

Most horrendously, though, magic wouldn't respond when she tried to call on it to attempt to break free from the invisible grip on her limbs.

Her head snapped to attention when Celedaen chuckled under his breath in obvious reaction to her realization.

"Your power is still there, worry not. I simply blocked the connection between it and your physical self." The only technique of magic-control Lisette knew of was putting a geas on a person, but that was usually for one task only, severely limiting the functionality and application of the spell. "If you are to use it again, it will be for _my_ benefit."

The power holding her up was suddenly gone and Lisette felt her knees give away and the ground embrace her much more quickly than she would have liked.

"And if you work diligently, you might even live to see the success of your contribution to my work. I hope you will exceed my expectation. I doubt you will." the Necromancer added, observing her beaten and drained form.

Lisette's fingers closed around the cloth underneath her, trying to force strength back into her limbs, but to no avail. Her elbows gave out beneath her and she collapsed on the ground again, though this time, she didn't have the luxury of even minutes of rest.

From then on, each day was the same. She was awoken with a sharp spell or a blow, whichever was more convenient for Celedaen at the current moment, and immediately thrown into work. After two weeks, she finally managed to develop a habit of waking up before even the Necromancer… though insomnia proved impossible, as she was always half dead by the time she was allowed to drop onto the dirty, torn blanket that now formed her entire lodgings.

Each day, she worked for at least sixteen hours on potion formulae, prepared ingredients and whatever else the Necromancer demanded, receiving nothing if she succeeded, but pain when she failed. Only one time did she attempt to mix something close to a poison instead of the designated recipe. Celedaen, however, was far keener a mage than she had supposed. The backhand she received for that actually made her see a flash or white for a second or so just before she was sent crashing against the wall.

For the first week or so, she was nearly always half-dead with exhaustion and devoid of any strength, magical or otherwise. Her magic remained blocked unless for when Celedaen required her to actively use it and even then, he had her watched and restrained in some manner.

The two mages that had come with her were turned into mindless thralls that now served as the muscle of the operation in more ways than one. Whenever live flesh was needed or the experiment was deemed potentially life-threatening, they were used. Resurrection caused one to lose the conscious mind more often than not and Celedaen's idea of returning a person to life certainly qualified.

The first time she saw the process, Lisette would have screamed, if she had the energy to spare. Eventually, it became a routine that she grew dully accustomed to.

Under the ground, it was difficult to measure time, particularly because the Altmer was prone to bouts of insomnia and often forced Lisette to work for inhumane periods of time way beyond any conventional working hours. The only way was to monitor the number of projects researched and failed.

Celedaen continued the journal of the experiments, but the entire process was enraging him and increasing his bouts of temper. His treatment of Lisette and the thralls remained largely the same, though he drove them more mercilessly than ever before.

Until, one night, the Necromancer woke Lisette only after an hour or so of dreamless sleep. Apparently, he was under the impression that his Sovereign had sent him information regarding the as he spent a night in mindless worship.

Most of the creation of the Sands of Resolve took over a week of sacrificing innocents and thralls. None of them had slept for all that time. The seal on Lisette's power was weakened, but even with it, her strength was nearly depleted.

"It cannot be done." she rasped out, her throat dry.

She rarely spoke to Celedaen; she had discovered that there was hardly anything he would listen to, be it her opinion or reason, but the last step needed to complete the ritual and begin the infusion of his soul into the Sands was simply too ludicrous to be possible.

A hand was immediately closed around her throat, giving two critical points a good squeeze. "You will finish the construction." The thralls didn't have the conscious skill and risking his own life wasn't wise just then. But the Necromancer was also somewhat surprised; she had appeared to accept her captivity and the inevitable end it would bring.

"But it can't be done!" Lisette insisted, though her voice was breathy and, for a moment, she saw white. "The magic pressure from the ritual will kill destroy the Sands and likely kill us both immediately!"

Yet to the Necromancer, that appeared to be an acceptable risk for attaining immortality.

"Do as I say, unless you wish to die now, in a far more painful way than a mere surge of magic can inflict upon you." Such matter-of-fact tones, with the words coming easily.

"Kill me, then." The words that came from her mouth were a surprise to them both, for different reasons. Yet Lisette understood that they were true – between the two alternatives she had, death was likely preferable. "I don't have the strength to do it. You'll kill me anyway, by hounding me like a slave or intentionally."

There was a moment of silence as the Altmer regarded her with fury. Then, there was another flash of light and Lisette found herself on the floor in a position that had become familiar to her over the last weeks.

"Even now you're not proper material for a slave, let alone a Necromancer acolyte." Celedaen spat, finding a means of letting out all of his dissatisfaction and anger with the failures of the research. "You could have been _someone _in the great kingdom of Celedaen. Now, you will be some_thing._"

She didn't even understand the words or their magnitude before there was a grip of iron just below her shoulder and she was hurled back to her feet and Celedaen proceeded to drag her through the cave and then outside.

The Breton hadn't seen sunlight in weeks and it seemed much brighter to her eyes than she remembered. The Altmer continued his dragging her through the forest. Her dusty and somewhat torn robes became muddier. She slipped and lost her footing several times as they climbed and practically slid through the forest to some unknown destination.

It was only when she saw the statue that she understood where she was being dragged and began trying to press her legs against the ground to try and stop their progress. But with all the mud and slopes around the forest, there was hardly any way to stop the force pulling her along.

The shrine of one of the more malevolent Daedric princes resided in the vicinity of the cave – something she had never realized before. Of course she knew it was somewhere around the mountains, but to have this close was rather alarming. Especially considering the nature of the worshippers.

There were plenty of them, all with faces gritty, battle-ready and hard. Worshippers that had devoted their existence to the Daedra or sought its favor to help in a task that involved its field of expertise.

The one dressed in mud-colored robes that appeared to be leader approached; a Redguard with cold eyes and a gruff voice approached them with some puzzlement.

"You are not one of the Faithful. Why do you approach the shrine, Necromancer?" he asked coldly, observing the Altmer's robes.

Celedaen, however, ignored him entirely and proceeded to drag Lisette all the way towards the statue of the Daedra. Once there, he produced the heart of a lesser Daedra – likely a scamp or another vaguely weak creature he had sacrificed for their immortality – and raised it up into the statue's line of sight with his free arm.

"Great Boethia! I offer you this heart as tribute to your magnificence!"

For a moment, Lisette actually believed that nothing was going to happen. She believed in Daedra, yes, but also hoped that the prince of murder, deception and other nasty things had better things on his schedule than being summoned by a renegade Necromancer. Right then, she believed in nothing, only fear.

But the sky itself seemed to shake when the voice of a _presence_ spoke, as if through the statue. The echo was coming from the stone, but then again, that was only as the conduit for the Daedra that was using it.

"_Why do you summon me? You are not one of my faithful. Do you hope to be counted among my Chosen?"_

Lisette had no idea what that that meant and she didn't want to. But Celedaen did and the situation pleased him.

"I offer to you this slave as my champion to prove in the Tournament of Ten Bloods!"

"What?" the Breton shrieked. "No! NO, let me GO! NO, I WON'T, no!"

Though Daedra lore wasn't her greatest strength, she understood what this meant. Boethia, being a violent god, enjoyed contests and battles mixing them both together was a particular favorite of his. If this was what she thought it was… trouble. She tried to wrench her arm away or to call upon magic, whichever she could do faster, but neither appeared possible. Eyes shining with sadistic glee, the Necromancer listened to the prince's musings.

"_A servant as a champion! Cowards have no place among the Chosen. But your ploy of murder pleases me, High Elf."_ Boethia complimented. The faithful – the worshippers – appeared to now be listening intently for their god's words._ "The female shall fight, then. __Prove yourself to me, mortal. I shall open a portal for you to one of my realms in Oblivion. Go, and take your place in my Tournament of Ten Bloods. Survive, and you will be rewarded. Fail, and your soul belongs to me."_

"I will not fight!" Lisette yelled, her eyes darting around the shrine. She didn't dare hope for Boethia to help her, but there was still the chance that he wouldn't support Celedaen either.

She didn't really believe in that, thought. Especially since it was the Altmer who responded first when the Daedra remained silent.

"I offer you fate other than death and you sneer at my mercy!" he shouted, showing his yellowing teeth when he pulled her to his face for a brief moment of horror. "You can fight and live… or die and serve the Daedra forever. The choice is yours!"

The Altmer's grip over Lisette's arm tightened as a portal of blazing electric blue opened in front of them. It crackled into life just as Celedaen spun the Breton around, forcing her balance forward and letting go of her. The momentum of the motion propelling her forward, Lisette stumbled over her own feet and was sent flying through the portal into Oblivion.


	22. Steel

I was inspired, so I wrote all of this in one go. Hope you appreciate it!

**o.O.o**

**Steel**

**o.O.o**

She was once again a stranger in her own nightmare.

It had to be a dream, because the cave she adamantly refused to call home after weeks of slavery couldn't – didn't – have this much heat. And there was no water nearby; yet she heard something akin to the sloshing of liquid not too far away. No, it was a dream, but it was lifting, because one couldn't feel pain while asleep.

And in the past few months, her sleep had been dead, dreamless. Peaceful.

There was magic in the air. Magic and dreams never mixed well.

Something sticky was drying on her face and Lisette raised a hand to wipe it away. When she opened her eyes, she found herself lying in a heap on the ground, the wound on her face throbbing. Blood was drying around her eyes; she had hit the bars of a cage full-force after being propelled into the landscape that now surrounded her. The cage she noticed last of all – along with the blood-stained bars of its door. The force of the impact had opened them.

She was on an island in a sea of lava; with two gigantic gates of jagged metal blocking her path to… she didn't know where.

Even as the horrible realization of where she was and what was happening washed over her, Lisette couldn't force herself to scream. Her rationality told her that she needed to conserve her strength after she had assured herself that the blue portal that must have brought her here was gone.

"_Welcome, Breton, to the Tournament of Ten Bloods!"_ A terrifying voice boomed across the landscape, thundering in her throbbing ears.

She remembered now. Recognized it, from the other side of the portal. It was Boethia, the Daedric Prince who had her at his mercy now. The following words were jumbled in her mind, but she understood it somehow. Without further ado, he laid out the only rule of the tournament – kill or be killed. Slay the other nine and live. Or die. There was no telling, but she supposed that as a warrior, Boethia would keep his word; after all, he wanted strong worshippers and this wasn't Mephala, who wouldn't hesitate to betray.

But who could blame her for being terrified even so?

She knew what kind of worshippers Boethia had; what kind of creatures to expect beyond the gates. These would be warriors, armed to the teeth and without hesitation keeping them from killing. And what was she? A mage without any strength left, without armor or weapons… but that wasn't entirely true.

The Blade of Woe. She still had that, the single physical weapon she had hidden in her clothes. Celedaen hadn't searched for weaponry because she seemed too scrawny and _mage-like_ to be armed and besides, in terms of physical strength, he overpowered her tremendously.

And killing… she had killed one person. Accidentally. It had been self-defense. But Boethia wouldn't accept such excuses. The Daedra demanded blood.

Hers would be spilled, she knew.

The wetness streaming down her cheeks wasn't fresh blood anymore; scabs were beginning to form to cover the wound. What did the tears mean, though?

Hysterics? She had gotten past that stage with Celedaen already. Anger? It was partly her fault that she was in this predicament, but at the same time, there were others much more responsible.

No… it was determination. To throw Caranya to these pits of Oblivion the Necromancer had cast her into. To bring justice to the Mages Guild. To see her friends and comrades again.

To face Death, but in a situation when it - _he_ - gazed back at her.

_What if you can end an honorable fight without killing your opponent?_ Boethia wouldn't accept that.

"_The ability to kill isn't in question, Blanche." Telaendril said within her mind. "If you focus on your goal and believe yourself capable of reaching it, you can do anything. Anything at all."_

To live. The will to live was the strongest thing in the world.

"_I'm not one of you."_

"_You could be."_

They did it on a daily basis. She had never questioned that; it was no secret. And yet they were still people in her eyes. People, not murderers. She had always known that their hands were stained with blood, yet they were almost as normal as most people, the assassins. Once, she had believed that the taking of a life must inevitably lead to madness on the part of the killer. Yet if they were mad, they concealed it admirably. Had she not known… well, she would have found them a bit odd, with hard eyes and cold smiles, giving off a dangerous vibe… but still, people.

People capable of goodness, despite that part of them that remained devoted to their dark god. Had some of them been forced, like she was being now, to take a life at first? Perhaps. She would ask later, if she ever saw them again.

"_Beloved maiden, I am Death."_

She wouldn't die here. She couldn't. Because the Reaper didn't stand before her, giving her a polite introduction to her demise. If she was to die, it would be by his hand, she somehow knew.

Unless Lucien Lachance himself stood before her, eyes dancing with a dark fire that only his blade could reflect, her life was secure.

Scraping to her knees, she stood up, knees wobbling. She staggered only for a moment before steadying herself with a new resolve. There was no such thing as a fair fight in assassination, they had taught her. And though Boethia would have likely preferred fair fights, she hadn't been given any specification.

She didn't know how to fight fair beyond Academy duels; assassination was all she had been taught. But the mage had been duing a slow death, forgotten in a cave beyond her guild's reach.

The assassin was all that remained now.

Steeling herself with the iron they had given her, Lisette Lemieux gripped the ceremonial dagger tightly, as if to allow it to become one with her skin, and stepped towards the first gate.

**o.O.o**

One might wonder – where was the Dark Brotherhood during this time? Did they know of their healer's fate and if so, why didn't they help her?

There were answers to those questions, simple ones. But mere answers weren't enough to give the whole story shape.

After Lisette had been apprehended by the Mages Guild, Count Hassildor had the presence of mind to send a note to the Sanctuary, where Vicente received it practically within the hour, reading it as Lisette was being carted off to the Imperial City.

The ancient vampire's frown continued to deepen as his eyes moved through the text, visualizing the situation. Hassildor wrote concisely, naming the mage's captors and giving his opinion on what would be done with her once she reached the Arcane University. At best, she would be merely put to trial.

At worst, she would be tortured for information – not even the high and mighty mages were beyond that when they needed something desperately – and sent to the prison to rot.

Even after reading merely the first sentence or so, Vicente knew well that rescue was out of the question. Not only was it against Dark Brotherhood policy to rescue apprehended agents – in Blanche's case, it might have been broken, the age-old rule – but doing so would doubtless confirm her association with the Dark Brotherhood to those who might suspect it. Or with the Necromancers, if that was what the mages wanted to believe. Either way, it would hurt her along the way much more than a simple trial, assuming she survived.

Another person who knew the ancient vampire well would have likely been quite surprised at Valtieri's concern for the girl. After all, there were others who could replace her, and gladly so. There were many mage apprentices out there who sought greatness, even wizards of much greater power than she possessed right now. Besides, he hadn't survived in Tamriel for as long as he had by making compromises and being unwilling to sacrifice a few pieces on the board.

But Blanche was not someone he wished to sacrifice. Her closeness to the top of the mage tower's ranks was a unique trait he didn't want to disregard. Her origins were a little intriguing and highly advantageous to them as well, easily allowing them much-needed room to maneouvre when she was concerned. And, not least of all, there was the potential in her for true devotion to their cause, to their dark god, assuming she didn't break first.

She was a sweet girl. She would learn and thrive.

He went to Ocheeva's quarters immediately, informing her of the situation.

The Argonian was silent for several moments, trying to decipher what they should tell the others. Gogron would likely suggest the foolhardy choice of charging to her rescue.

"Do you think we should notify Lucien of this?" she asked instead, preferring to have a superior's say-so with the uncommon situation before doing something that might be regretted later.

"In the current situation, it might not be the highest priority on a Speaker's mind." Vicente mused.

The situation regarding a possible traitor among the Brotherhood hadn't gotten any better; in fact, it seemed that though everyone was on their toes, once in a while, one of the more experienced members had a near-life-threatening situation and barely made it through. Or worse, didn't.

Lucien himself was in the process of looking for a new Silencer, which was an arduous task in itself. While he was fond of Blanche – Vicente knew as much, though the Imperial wouldn't give even the vaguest hint, guarded as he was at this point – this wasn't a matter in which even a Speaker could likely do much good. Besides, it would likely cast doubt on his competence as a Speaker, as Blanche was his responsibility in the eyes of the Black Hand.

"Do you think we can do something for her?" Ocheeva inquired, her tail flicking anxiously. There were others in the Sanctuary closer to the Breton mage than her, but she, too, cared for their little ward's well-being, even if she couldn't converse with her about magical substances at length. "Obviously, we cannot break her out of prison if they sentence her, but we could get her free by manipulation-"

"I fear that if she has help from a third party this time, the Necromancers will see it as a chance to implicate her further. We should wait for them to finish their move. Once we know of their intentions towards her, we can act."

"What if they execute her?" Ocheeva suppressed a shudder at the very thought. An odd move for someone who dealt with death every day.

"They won't. Her enemies need her as a scapegoat and she has sufficient allies in high places to keep her alive for one more move, at least. I believe Traven might intervene. If not…"

"Then?"

"Foolish pride leads victors to parade defeated enemies before the masses." Vicente pointed out wisely. Most likely the Necromancer in charge of nullifying the threat of Blanche believed that this was enough to neutralize her. "We have time."

They didn't, but that was realized only when the message reached Lucien, through one Antoinetta Marie.

The young Breton was quite keen to visit her rescuer, though they were meeting at an abandoned fort rather than in his private sanctuary – he had to possess one, as all Speakers did, but few were likely allowed to enter. She had been instructed to bring all of Lisette's recent (meaning received before the beginning of her stay at Cheydinhal) letters along with her. In her curiosity, Antoinetta read some of them during her journey to the appointed location. There were magic scrolls, diagrams, research notes and various scribbles among them.

No letters from anything that resembled family, she saw. Some notes from friends and the occasional carefully-concealed and coded Dark Brotherhood letter. Very few of them were still sealed, but one differentiated from all the others by appearing in the form of a legal document. It appeared to be a deed to a place called Frostcrag Spire, though the writing was too spidery for her to make out much of it. What she could make out, however, stated that this spire was an inheritance from a recently-deceased granduncle about six times removed – she herself knew about how twisted and big Breton family trees were – to one Lisette Lemieux based on the last wishes of the deceased.

It had arrived during Lisette's last mission and ended up stuffed underneath many piles of notes; she had likely not seen it yet.

What did it matter in the end, though? She was still gone and likely in trouble, if it was important enough to trouble their Speaker with. Antoinetta had a deep respect for Lachance, something that might border on a simple crush. Yet it wasn't romantic enough to warrant jealousy of the other Breton; she might as well have been helping the Speaker look for his dear stray dog, for all the emotion she put into it. In her mind, there was no fault in her superior or their lost little bird.

It was, in a way, pure caring.

"Praise Sithis, Brother." she said humbly when she felt a presence behind her among the stones.

Only one being could make her feel unthreatened even when he had the obvious strategic advantage. And when she turned, there was Lucien, of course, leading a demonic horse by the reigns towards the bowing Breton. The creature unnerved her, especially as it was her first time seeing it, but she held her head up bravely.

"Antoinetta, it is good to see you are well." The simple observation was entirely impartial, almost disinterested. "Your message couldn't be delivered by post, I assume?"

Antoinetta preferred to start off with good news to soften the blow, so this was the first thing she handed to the Speaker. Momentarily, she contemplated pocketing the letter – after all, she resembled Blanche physically to a certain degree, though not overly so – but then shrugged the notion off. She couldn't do magic unless it involved her dagger, so a wizarding lair (what it seemed to be) was useless to her.

In a way, she was jealous of Blanche for this, among other things, but the other woman was by now likely paying for any ill will she had inadvertently created far more than she deserved, so she shrugged that emotion off as well.

"I bring news of Cousin Blanche, Speaker." she said, trying to maintain an even tone of voice. "She has been blessed with inheritance from ancestors long gone, here in Cyrodiil."

"I see that." Lachance glossed over the fact that the letter had clearly been opened before, though Antoinetta thought the devilish horse was actually giving her a look of disapproval. "And why, may I ask, are you not delivering this fortunate news to her, but insist on meeting me personally?" But he hadn't made it as far as he had at a relatively young age merely by skill with blade. "Where is Blanche?"

There was no worry in the question, but a person not used to the iciness of an assassin's demand would have felt like a dagger was pressing closer to their jugular with each cool word. Antoinetta was conditioned to shrug most of it off and focus on the displeasure.

She twirled the Black Band around her finger, which did nothing to better the situation.

"She is... at the Arcane University, as far as we know, Speaker." the Breton tried to weigh her words carefully, but still felt entirely transparent. "She has been taken by the mages for treason against their guild."

"Speak." _Tell me everything and quickly._

Even Antoinetta couldn't pretend it didn't sting a bit when she saw how Lucien's dark eyes gleamed in anger and surprise when she presented this, her most obvious reason for being there. She told him of the capture, the impending trial and the possibilities it involved.

Lachance was almost seething.

The Speaker wasn't enraged simply by the information – he was angered by the implications it held. He abhorred helplessness and here, he was practically in check. The girl was his to protect and now, he couldn't make a move without endangering both of their positions. He was forced to wonder, was this a move of their traitor? Did the worm know this much about their organization structure and hoped to weaken him by endangering what, for all intents and purposes, must seem like a most uncommon interest for a man in his position?

Lucien was far from weak enough to cast aside his own achievements for the sake of another person, but at the same time, he acknowledged internally that if it were strategically possible, he would go to certain lengths to ensure Blanche's recovery. If he had harbored any doubts about her involvement with this traitor, this served to wipe them from his mind, at least. No one, save for the greatest fanatics, would willingly put themselves in such a damnable position as Blanche was in now.

"The Black Hand will be displeased with this development." he muttered, only in part to to Antoinetta.

On one hand, they would berate him for losing a valuable asset. On the other, they would surely once more bring up the possibility of her being a liability. They were stubborn enough to fall into such a predictable trap. Another deliberate move on the traitor's part – or simply dumb luck. Lachance unfortunately didn't think so.

"What would you have us do, Speaker?" Ah, the ever-eager minion. He had almost forgotten about her presence, so intense was his focus on reaching Blanche.

Antoinetta, eager to please, or simply anxious for some activity, would be of little use in this situation. She had served her purpose. But she was mistaking things somewhat – her view of the figurative chessboard wasn't as broad as that of Lachance. She understood only that Blanche held some meaning to the Speaker, perhaps greater than any one of them, his brothers and sisters.

"Tell Vicente to station someone we can spare near the Arcane University. Notify me immediately once a verdict is reached. Then, we will make our move and get her back."

There was such steel in his voice that Antoinetta herself felt a rush of determination before she scampered off into the darkness. It overcame her own doubts about the meaning Blanche might have for the Brotherhood; the word of her Speaker was enough to do this to someone with absolute faith in him, such as herself.

The message was heard. But Telaendril, the master of infiltration and arrows from the shadows, came too late.

Caranya had been too eager to sentence Blanche and deal with the problem once and for all. Furthermore, the case of Lisette Lemieux wasn't being made public until a verdict was reached, which meant that they had to wait for her to return from her classified mission. Without the chance to enter the University – the wards around the building were strong and Telaendril was no mage – there was nothing the Bosmer could find out about where Blanche had been sent, other than that it was to prove her worth by vanquishing an enemy.

From then on, there was always someone on the watch in the vicinity of the Arcane University, waiting for Lisette Lemieux to be brought back, either triumphantly or in chains.

Days and weeks flew by. Telaendril's reports continued to remain the same, but she had also switched to watching the individual High Council members, Caranya in particular. Judging by the smugness of the Altmer, she believed Blanche to be dead after all these weeks and refused to allow any reinforcements to be sent after her. After all, this was _her_ task.

More than once, Telaendril contemplated shooting the Altmer from afar. Once or twice, Lucien himself considered giving the order. But Sithis didn't desire the soul of this Altmer, not yet. They still couldn't intervene.

"A message for you, Speaker."

Lachance believed it at first to be Telaendril's next report, but it was a message from the Listener; apparently, another lucky someone had caught the eye of the Night Mother with a precise if crude murder in the Imperial City, which fell under his jurisdiction as Speaker. It meant that they had a potential new member, assuming this person didn't wet their pants the moment they saw the robed Speaker and weren't a deranged, crude lunatic. In either case, it meant death; freelance assassins with no spine and mindless monsters were both… frowned upon as far as the Brotherhood was concerned.

"Thank you, Swift-Flyer."

The messenger often employed to reach Blanche now often reached Lachance in his moderately expensive home in the Imperial City; though he no longer posed as Blanche's "suitor", so to speak, he had kept the residence for practical reasons.

"I will have the reply within a few minutes; feel free to sit down."

The Argonian, however, said that he preferred standing. He waited patiently like a statue while Lucien scribbled his acceptance of the task with a quill too sharp and gave a mild bow of his head upon receiving the scroll.

"With all due respect, Speaker… I hope you find her in time." the messenger said uncustomarily before thanking for the reply and giving the customary farewell of the Brotherhood.

Lachance didn't for a moment not recognize which _her _the Argonian meant. He, too, was growing worried about Blanche.

It had been weeks now… without any news or signs. Anxiety didn't suit him well, he mused wryly, but neither did caring about someone. Yet he couldn't deny feeling something of the sort - of both, it seemed - whenever he pictured the innocent he knew to be breakable by simple self-defense faced with a situation that would undoubtedly require her to kill.

Finally, somewhat encouraged by the courier's words, but mainly for his own peace of mind, he retreated into a hidden chamber where he kept everything his profession required of him and knelt before the carefully hidden miniature shrine to Sithis. He prayed when needed and when it suited him, without any routine that was easy to predict. But when he did, it usually had much more meaning than the lip-service most gave to their gods.

And that night proved a milestone even at that, because for the first time, Lucien Lachance asked assistance for someone else than himself.

"Honored Night Mother, grant her the eyes to see what she must do." he murmured to the statuette. There was nothing he could offer the matron that she didn't already possess from him, but if, by some miracle the Mother responded, he was willing to offer whatever she asked for. "Dread Father Sithis, force into her the will to carry her through the deed."

The prayer was sealed with blood that splattered the ground in a realm other than Tamriel, by a hand other than his.

**o.O.o**

Lisette Lemieux was dead.

She somehow realized it even as she crawled through the very last gate and tumbled down to the ground. She had killed Lisette Lemieux the moment she drew blood from the very first of her victims.

Intentional murder.

No remorse. Kill or be killed. Such animalistic instincts, she had believed, were beneath her, but Blanche was discovering that the awful truth was quite the contrary. Anyone could kill; it was the method that counted. And her finesse had grown with each try, it seemed.

The first, she had been forced to kill through stealth – luckily, the Khajiit knew nothing of invisibility spells, apparently. For a moment, she had imagined him to be M'raaj Dar, surprised by her prowess… and then, he was lying on the ground, his throat neatly slashed in a sea of red that would have made Antoinetta proud. It was she, after all, who had trained Blanche in knifework, patchy as it was. Instinct had done the rest.

The Breton had paused then, feeling a sharp pang in her chest. It had been self-defense, yes… but the attack had never come.

Murder still.

Now that she was a killer, there was no further honor for her to lose, she reasoned as she stripped the corpse of whatever useful items it contained. Her own shredded, dirtied robe she didn't replace, as she couldn't move very well in armor. But she gulped down some of the potions, restoring her health and powers.

Then, she did the unthinkable… she remembered the techniques Celedaen used to revive the corpses of her _comrades_ and did the same to the Khajiit. After all, they believed she was a Necromancer already, didn't they? Why lie and deny it?

Why not take advantage of the lies?

She was surprised to be able to do it on the first try, but apparently, she was a quick and efficient student. Even when under… duress.

The Khajiit had served as a literal meat-shield against the next, a bow-wielding Bosmer. For a ranged fighter, he didn't dodge magical attacks too well, that one. Blanche took his quiver of enchanted arrows and expensive-looking bow, among other things. Telaendril had taught her to shoot steadily and the bow was small enough for her to wield without too much difficulty. She didn't bother working her magic on a headless corpse, scrawny as it looked.

The Orc, she blinded and shot in the face… several times, giving her the appearance of a green hedgehog. She was slow with the bow, but then again, the Khajiit lasted for a while. Then, she resurrected the dead body, resolving to use only the strongest races.

The hedgehog impression was complete when the Redguard sliced the Orc's head off moments before the Khajiit got to him. For good measure, Blanche summoned a Daedra to replace the lost warrior. The Argonian was sliced to bits. The Nord was shot. The Breton literally devoured alive by the next Daedra she summoned once her previous protector vanished back into the plane itself.

Somehow, it was easier here.

Only the Imperial and the Altmer gave her trouble. The latter was a strong magician that managed to repel both her and her servants for quite some time before giving in. The former bore a striking resemblance to Aurelia and employed more tactics than most others. She managed to get close enough to take a good swing at Blanche, who stumbled a bit in the evasive maneuver, allowing the other to grab her by the throat. If she hadn't quickly pressed both hands into the Imperial's torso and gasped out the incantation for lightning, she would have been in peril.

But now… there was silence across the plane after Boethia had roared that she was the victor. She had potions enough to bathe in by then; the others had been well-stocked. Blanche was resting now, regaining her strength. She didn't know if Celedaen was waiting for her or not, but she did know that he had to be eliminated and that it fell to her.

It was simple – all she had to do was destroy the Sands of Resolve, assuming he had finished them. Or better yet, simply steal them from him. Lisette Lemieux would never have the courage to do something like that. Lisette Lemieux would call the Guild for help…

Blanche didn't.

Blanche understood that there was nobody coming to her rescue and if she was to survive, she had to do this alone.

She used some of the potions to simply wipe away the blood from her face and hands – some her own, much more belonging to those she had slain. The red robes hid the stains quite well, but they were tattered and torn and dirty by then. Her hair was a mess of tangles, stuck together by sweat and blood. Yet her breaths were no longer shaky, her posture no longer rigid. She had survived the test through fire.

When she finally raised her eyes towards the blue portal leading back to Tamriel, she was resolved to end this. She had magicka enough now to destroy Celedaen, but with the severing magic he still had, she decided to take some of the lighter weapons with her as insurance.

How long had she been in Oblivion? Mere hours? Days? She didn't know, but her exhaustion was gone. Adrenaline was still pumping in her veins, yet it didn't pound in her ears anymore.

The unlikeliest of creatures had become a warrior. No, not that, that was a wrong word for what she was.

She was a killer.

Blanche stepped through the portal, weapon at the ready, desperation and courage mixing in her in one grand flame. Yet when she emerged on the other side, blinded by the clear sunlight and the sheer green of her peaceful surroundings, a slight weight fell on her shoulders.

Her eyesight had to adjust to the light and her body to the new garment… she was clad in a combination of the best armor of the fallen suitable for her body. The elven plate felt strange, as she had never worn anything like it before. Fortunately, there was no helmet – her head was heavy enough without it – but that didn't lessen the sensation she had last felt when she had been obligated to wear a corset in her family's household.

Celedaen was nowhere in sight, she realized, but what was more peculiar was that the disciples of Boethia were saluting her with awe. No one needed to tell her that they hadn't counted on her coming out alive.

The Redguard who had greeted Celedaen approached her with a mild bow, astonishment still etched deeply into his face. "Chosen One, I welcome you back to Tamriel. The great Boethia will doubtlessly reward you for your deeds."

Reward? She deserved no such thing. She wanted no such thing. But she knew better than to ignore a Daedra Prince, she reasoned as she approached the shrine.

"_I greet you, Chosen One!" _Boethia sounded pleased, as tranquil as one who reveled in warfare might be._ "A victory in my Tournament of Ten Bloods brings great honor. Take Goldbrand, sheathe it in your enemies, and offer their souls as praise to me."_

A golden-bladed sword materialized in her hand, solidifying quicker than molten amber, as if it had always been meant to be wielded by her only. It was light and beautiful, endowed with powerful magic. Despite her mild apathy and continuing fear and anger, she couldn't help but be amazed by the artifact she was holding in her hand. Weapons lore wasn't her forte, but Goldbrand, known as the Dragon Sword by some, was one of the greatest weapons of the planes.

In her hands. As Boethia correctly believed, her deathdealing wasn't over. It didn't please her in any way – she was still feeling jittery and had a shred of respect towards death. But this had been a great step for her, a challenge in which she had both succeeded and failed, from two points of view.

There was still Celedaen to deal with. And then…

Lucien. She wanted – _needed_ – to see Lucien and tell him what had happened. She could already hear that he would both praise her to the skies and condemn her for her lack of foresight, but neither mattered now. She needed to see a friendly face, someone she could trust.

Yes, she trusted Lucien Lachance most in the world at the moment. Out of all the possible candidates, the Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood was the first that came to her mind in the desperate situation she was. He could advise her better than anyone what to do now. And the sight of him would comfort her, she knew, because to see Death standing before you was far more calming than not knowing from whence it would strike.

She steeled herself once again, pushing Lisette Lemieux to the back of her mind. Blanche of the Dark Brotherhood was the one in the forefront of this campaign, the one who could and would win easily.

Gripping Goldbrand tightly, as if her life depended on it – and perhaps it did – Blanche left the shrine of Boethia as one of the Chosen and continued on her path.

The final death before the sun set in blood would be neither quick nor painless. Even the innocent could harbor feelings of hatred. Even the innocent could be human enough to understand the enjoyment of revenge, empty as the whole act was. It wouldn't return the time lost, the blood spilt, the purity tarnished. However, it would bring satisfaction to her grim mood as Blanche obeyed the Daedra in sheathing the sword in her most hated of enemies that day.

And when she left the cave then, the moist trails along her cheeks were for Lisette Lemieux, the young mage-girl who wouldn't have hurt anyone without reason and even then only reluctantly and for Lisette Lemieux, the woman who was finally embracing the truths she might have hidden from for the rest of her existence.


	23. Ice

Next, I will be returning to my DN fic, Serious, so the next chapters might take a little while.

**o.O.o**

**Ice**

**o.O.o**

The wheel of fate was turning more than diligently.

Lucien Lachance didn't necessarily believe in fate; he believed in coincidences and the correct timing of them. He believed in only a single god, who governed a single aspect of life – no matter how important and fulfilling – and let all the other parts of it take due course.

However, he also believed in planning – for wasn't all planning about the correct timing of what appeared to be coincidences, arranging them in a logical sequence that led to one result? – and he was beginning to suspect that there was more to the wild order the Black Hand had given than simple superstition or the desire to shoot a single all-consuming spell at a flock of ravens and hope to hit the crow.

Lucien doubted it would accomplish anything anyway. He had tried to argue, despite this being an age-old tradition, that they would be throwing away many more than capable, devoted recruits for the sake of hunting down one. And that eliminating their own was likely what this traitor wanted. Neither argument served well enough to make his case.

Purification, the Listener had ordered. To be carried out immediately.

Blanche, missing still, was mercifully not included in any "solution" the Black Hand had yet to come up with. However, it was probable that the desperation the Black Hand was sinking into would deepen upon discovering that their guest was still among them. If she returned now, she might be blamed. For that reason alone, Lachance was somewhat glad she wasn't around to witness this.

It hadn't been an easy thing, giving this order. In many ways, it had been far more difficult than receiving it. And if there was ever to be a murder Lachance was going to regret in his life, these would be it.

They were not innocent, not by a long shot. But they had been loyal and courageous… in his eyes, they deserved to go down fighting for what they believed in and kneel at the throne of Sithis, as they had been promised. Not to live long enough to see themselves become the targets of their own game.

Some short weeks ago, he had finally managed to fill the position of his Silencer. It was a trying task, finding a single recruit that would suit his purposes, for more than one reason. His first choice had been an old student of Alastriona's; one of the few of that flock that thrived for danger and lived to challenge herself. The girl was quick and lacked neither in strength or skill. That she was killed on her first mission reflected badly on both him and the Black Hand itself.

And he had heard the talk, the whispers, that all those that associate with his part of the Brotherhood meet ill fates. Some blamed that "pet" he had brought in, the mysterious Cousin they had never met, who had also gone missing recently. Others were bolder and believed him to have brought down the wrath of Sithis on himself in ways the Tenets didn't necessarily forbid. None dared to say anything of the sort to his face, but Lachance was neither deaf nor stupid.

Things were slowly beginning to fall into place for someone hidden within the Brotherhood itself; a festering worm attempting to devour it from within, poison it. That was unacceptable.

And whoever this was, it was a challenge for him; after all, one of his own, Maria, her name had been, had been the first of the confirmed non-accidental murders.

With swiftness and secrecy, he had appointed a new Silencer; not as skilled as the girl, admittedly, nor as well-seasoned, but there was a freshness and a willingness to please about this other one… and he was accomplished, his short track record with the Brotherhood could easily testify.

He had been the backup choice, the substitute. Now, he was the real thing.

Lachance knew he needed to act now, while the traitor believed him to be occupied. And if the Cheydinhal Sanctuary was, as the Black Hand claimed, tied to the problem, there was no better place to start his investigation than there. After all, the first three dead drops had been placed and it would take his man several days to complete one, let alone three. He had time.

After a lengthy journey on horseback, Lachance discovered that his entry into the city would easily go unnoticed even in broad daylight, so preoccupied was everyone with the freshly-opened gate to Oblivion. Most useful, that otherworldly entrance. Though someone of such distinct appearance could draw eyes wherever they went, Lachance's dark clothing was nothing compared to the blazing inferno and the hellspawn it produced.

He left his horse behind the abandoned house while he descended into the Sanctuary through the well. Shadowmere, with her menacing stare, would turn any curiosity into immediate turning away and running.

As he had expected, the place bore every sign of having witnessed a battle of particular magnitude. Books thrown around, splinters of broken weapons and shields… Lachance clenched his jaw when he saw the first signs of blood. The Dark Guardians had proceeded to start the cleanup, so to speak, but it still disturbed even a seasoned murderer to see the eerie skeletons pile up their former masters that had fallen in the line of duty… so to speak.

Of course, he hadn't come to mourn. He didn't know how to do such a thing. But pain him it did, even though it barely showed.

Instead, he proceeded to investigate the place rather like one would a crime scene. A hunter of the night who was at home in the place might spot things that a mere visitor would never manage to see. But still, even he had doubts. Were there things he was unaware of that had made someone bear ill will towards his part of the Brotherhood? Or was this indeed a direct challenge meant for him only? Nothing indicated which part of the Brotherhood might be infected, but there was a fixation with this Sanctuary in the undertone of these attacks. Yet the matter of disposing with its members didn't give Lachance even the shred of a clue of whence the attack might be coming.

In the dormitories, he stepped over the corpse of the Sanctuary pet rat, Schemer. Blanche had been rather horrified that they had a rat – how did that contribute to a healthy environment when they had one of the most common disease-carrying animals living with them? – but eventually, she grew to accept and perhaps even like Schemer… even though she always was a bit edge when asked to feed him.

He could even imagine how the rat would have bared its teeth and jolted when a loud slumping crash echoed through the stone halls, rather like a cabinet of armor collapsing.

Lachance hadn't gotten through years of stealthily disposing of people without caution. He blended with the shadows like a whisper and, drawing a dagger, moved through the corridors towards where he suspected the source of the noise. There was no further sound coming from the spot… only breathing.

Inexplicable hope was what he felt flicker in him for an instant. Had one of them survived?

_Foolishness… concentrate on the task at hand,_ he berated himself inwardly.

The figure sprawled on the floor didn't resemble any of his henchmen; for one thing, none of them wore ridiculously light-colored armor. For another, there was no pool of blood encircling it and the ragged breaths indicated a shred of life still. In another life, it might have resembled Antoinetta in terms of build and appearance, but…

It was no threat, nor in any condition to attack him. Sweeping towards the collapsed like a shadow, Lachance turned the figure to lie on its back with a well-placed nudge of his boot.

Though she was sprawled rather gracelessly on the floor and looked as if she had hacked her way through a thick marshland – with scratches sketched in mud and leaves on her inexplicable armor – the weary blue eyes that glanced up at him from underneath a curtain of ash and blood and gold couldn't belong to anyone else.

"Blanche!" The Speaker was kneeling at her side within an instant, quickly coming to the conclusion that her unearthly pallor and sunken cheeks weren't a product of vampirism. If nothing else, the blood-stained sword she clutched rigidly and the reddish stains in her hair and on her face were proof of this. "By Sithis, what happened to you? Where have you been?"

"Lucien…?" Her voice was raspy and weary, but unmistakably hers. She tried to sit up, but even without the armor, it would have been difficult in her apparent state. Fortunately, this time, she seemed to know when to quit and sank back to the ground, as if hoping to sink into it.

She wore armor of elven make, which was obviously new and of high quality under the dirt and grime. From the look of things, she had crossed a sizable distance on foot, most likely hacking through the wilderness instead of using the road like a sensible person. While the origins of her peculiar appearance and the reason for her current state were unknown, Lachance recognized exhaustion when he saw it. He could also easily notice that she was a mess of small cuts and bruises, more likely hidden underneath the armor.

All this meant only that a single question was relevant to him. First, the empty but true assurances.

"I am here. You are safe now." She had fallen face-first, so the Speaker had to turn her around in order to see the full extent of the damage. Scars of victory were pleasing as battle trophies to some, perhaps, but seeing a mostly non-combatant wounded... "Tell me who did this to you."

Blanche managed something that looked like the smile of a person who was rediscovering amusement on the brink of peaceful death. "So you can kill them?"

"You think so little of me?" It would be true under different circumstances, but anyone who had managed to damage her so deserved much more attention than a simple death. "So that I can make them beg for that reprieve from suffering."

"You are too late, then... Celedaen is dead." The same as in the recent assignment? Lachance almost visibly snapped to attention at the mention of that.

"The Necromancer?" She would have been surprised to hear this, if she had the energy for astonishment. That one was supposed to have been slain by one of them, not her. If it was that _thing_ that had captured her, then he richly deserved his fate, but if even killing in self-defense had traumatized Blanche so, doing so with the intent of taking life might have done worse. "What matters is that you're alive and safe."

"Safe… with an assassin." Lachance found her ability to find some twisted humor in the situation positive proof that she wasn't about to sink into depression again, but he wasn't going to push it by not playing along.

"Your whole life is filled with such paradoxes." How she had gotten to Cheydinhal, he didn't dare guess, with the guard going haywire due to the presence of the Oblivion gate outside the city. "You need to eat… you look utterly malnourished." It served to emphasize her youth in a disturbing way, but the grip on her weapon when the Speaker tried to pry it from her hand was anything but that. "Where did you get that sword?"

"Would you believe me if I said a Daedric Prince gave it to me?" her voice was raspy, as if the last water she had drunk had vanished from the world ages ago.

It was difficult to tell if she was joking or simply too exhausted to explain, but Lachance had wisely turned his attention to the greater issue at hand. "Would you be able to remain calm if I say that I need to remove the armor before I can carry you?"

"You know I don't have the strength to fight you now even if I was uncomfortable with that." Blanche remarked quietly and closed her eyes for a few moments. The full weight of her exhaustion was beginning to take its toll and she stayed awake mainly by focusing on the sounds of the plate mail and the momentary pressure Lucien's hands made whenever he found a clasp and pried it open.

It took several minutes to find all the straps holding it in place, it wasn't as if this was the first time he was removing the armor of a motionless person; of course, this time, it wasn't to dump the corpse into a body of water. He actually took care to be somewhat gentler this time, in case there were injuries hidden beneath the plate. There were scratches visible in places, yes, but the simple clothing beneath the armor appeared utterly devoid of damage and strangely new.

Lachance didn't really question whence the attire came or why Blanche had taken the effort to put on something she obviously couldn't fight entirely effectively in. All of it was left where it had come off when the Speaker swept up the now distinctly lighter form of Blanche and carried her through the strangely mute Sanctuary.

Her room was exactly as she had left it what seemed lifetimes ago now, most of her books and other possessions in their proper place, either scattered or neatly collected where they belonged; with her, there was rarely any in-between. Her bed was the only completely neat spot in the room and that ended the moment she was laid on it.

The arms supporting her weight slithered away and in less than a minute, the sound of footsteps returned and she was raised to a semi-sitting position with several pillows supporting her from behind. What she was hardly prepared for was the amount of food she was presented a moment later. Apparently, Lachance was quicker than she thought and managed to bring her what appeared to be food for three people on a single plate while she rested her eyes.

"I can't eat all that…" In truth, she likely could and her moth was watering; even though she had had grander dishes in her lifetime, this seemed more than a feast worth for the Emperor compared to the things she had been forced to eat as a prisoner of Celedaen.

"Slowly, you can." Lachance countered, aware that too much food on a starved stomach would likely do her more harm than good. But eat she had to, if they were to leave the city within the day. Carrying her around would slow him down too much.

Fortunately, Blanche apparently decided that survival was worth more than dignity and accepted the plate and cutlery with an obligatory: "Yes, mother."

She had to be feeling better than her visage would suggest if she had the energy to mouth off. Through careful cooperation of three hands at a time, they managed to strip off some of the heavy and now offending armor. This way, the Speaker noticed several long gashes along her forearms, wounds slowly healing that made her fingers tremble even when gripping the cutlery. In a full state of health, she could have likely healed them within an instant and to him, such injuries were trivial and unimportant, but they were clearly causing her some degree of discomfort. Having her gulp down a healing potion right now wouldn't do her stomach good, either.

Blanche blinked twice when Lachance began flipping through one of her books and felt her eyebrows rise quizzically when he apparently found the page of a healing spell. Even more puzzling was when he took one of her wrist to ease the spell and maximize the effect through direct contact, apparently.

"You know nothing of Restoration." She was only guessing, of course – she had no idea whether or not Lachance possessed magical prowess at all, but he didn't strike her as the type who would simply hack and slash his way through a crowd, like Gogron, or a specialist sniper, like Telaendril.

In truth, Lachance was quite adequately talented in some schools of magic – as much as one can be without any formal training, one might suppose, due to his talent of self-study combined with a survival instinct to match – but Restoration wasn't where he excelled, simply put.

"No, but you are an excellent teacher and it is in your best interest to help me learn." he said without looking up and, without waiting for any instructions, began trying the spell. Guidance on her part was actually unnecessary – Lisette rather thought she was more of a test subject than anything right now – and, within a few minutes of clumsily attempting to eat with one hand only, her fingers weren't shaking anymore and all the half-oozing scabs were healed.

"Thank you." she murmured before returning to her meal. Water this fresh and clean was almost a miracle to her after all this time. She was also quite certain that she had a great need for a bath and fresh clothes; Boethia might have attired her to resemble a warrior, but he had done nothing to remove the blood and sweat and grime that was apparently also part of the package.

Lachance simply nodded briskly, slamming the book shut and placing it back where it belonged. Blanche still looked rather like a mess, but at least it was a healthier-looking mess now, bloodstains aside.

"Where is everyone?" she asked finally, a question she had almost forgotten until that moment. The Sanctuary seemed to be howling with emptiness, like an abandoned cave – something she didn't need to imagine – and it was implausible that all the Brothers and Sisters were on missions, including Vicente and Ocheeva. Something was wrong. She knew it the moment Lachance sighed and gave her a brief, grim look that spelled disaster.

"Much has happened since you left, Blanche." he began, rather hesitantly for his usual sinister bravado. "I'm afraid you cannot stay here." The last thing he needed now was having one of the last loyal to him perish because of a foolish order.

"Why? What happened?"

Lucien's teeth threatened to clench for the briefest moment, hardening his jaw. "I have appointed a new Silencer; he is on a task right now. The Black Hand decreed that this Sanctuary is somehow linked to the reputed traitor. They had…" No way he could put this would soften the blow of it, even to him. "They ordered a Purification."

"I don't under-" Her voice didn't stop abruptly as much as it faded away into nothingness. Blanche's countenance reminded him of those of the many he had killed with a well-placed arrow; silence, wide eyes while the shock of the impact was absorbed, lips half-open and then, weary acceptance, the brief flutter of eyelids and…"No. No, you can't mean that!"

His thoughts upon receiving the order to sentence his own trusted subordinates to such a fate were given voice by the mage. Lachance cursed himself inwardly for being forced to echo the empty sentiments of the others Black Hand members. "It is most unfortunate that it had to happen like this…"

"You actually had them all-" Blanche quieted down, but she was more restless for it. Her eyes, though downcast, burned fiercely and just for a second, Lucien actually dreaded being the target of her resentment. Even more so that she wouldn't have any choice but to submit to his will in her current weakened state, something that might add fuel to the flame.

"I was outvoted four to one; it was not my choice." These were not excuses; these were facts, pure and simple. Lachance understood the reasons why it had been ordered, but didn't trust this sudden urgency which took over the Black Hand. He knew each and every one of his subordinates personally. They were hand-picked, those that had survived the test of time. "I don't believe any of them were the traitor; rather, he has won a victory against us without lifting a finger."

The flame flickered from anger to anxiety. "What about me?"

"You?" The Speaker could have given her enough reasons, some truthful, some not, but settled for a pragmatic answer. "I told you already that you are suspect, but still worth more alive."

"And they weren't?" Despite the accusation in her tone, she was beginning to accept the fact that they were gone. Gogron and Telaendril, who had helped her so much; Antoinetta, who had trained her despite her clumsiness; Ocheeva, with her watchful eyes and Teinaava, who always peeked at her experiments and helped, when he could; even M'raaj Dar, though he didn't deserve her regret. And Vicente, whom she had cared for most of all.

"Do you think it doesn't pain me?" Lachance's anger wasn't directed at her, but she felt it all the same. "I knew them all far longer than you."

And he had been forced to order their deaths.

Lisette winced, as if struck. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insinuate… I'm sorry." As she couldn't console herself, she couldn't console him. Not that Lachance needed or wanted such things, apparently, as he gave no indication of having heard her apologies.

"The way things stand, carelessness could cost us much. This corruption is rooted deep within the Brotherhood itself. I don't think anyone aside from me should be aware of your return to us." he announced, surveying her once again. She was fit for travel, or would be by the time he finished doing what needed to be done.

"You would intentionally withhold information from the Black Hand?" It seemed to skate too uneasily on the edge of treason from one point of view; Blanche doubted they would view it kindly if they ever found out. which they eventually would, most likely.

"You suspect me?" Lachance was neither surprised nor disappointed. She would be foolish not to. "You're not alone, I assure you."

Surprisingly, she shook her head, grimacing a bit when some of the strands glued together by blood pulled at her scalp. "No. I know manipulation; anyone that studied at the Arcane University has to. You're not trying to manipulate me… any more than anyone else ever tried to." she finished firmly, perhaps more so than she believed.

There was no lie in her face. Somehow, Lachance was relieved as he drew a resealed envelope from his robes. He hadn't expected to encounter Blanche, but he had kept this one with him, simply because of its intriguing contents.

"This belongs to you."

"A letter?" If she noticed that the seal wasn't the original one, she made no comment.

"Yes. I had to read your correspondence after you vanished, unfortunately."

Lisette had suspected it, but she appreciated the honesty, in a way. Her eyes skimmed through the letter, but the contents weren't as surreal to her as she might have imagined they would be. "Sebastian Bonaventure…" she murmured to herself. "I don't remember… wait, I think I do, I just don't know how many times removed an uncle he is. But I don't know anything about this…"

"You are being given a perfect opportunity to conceal yourself from both the Brotherhood and the Mages Guild for a while. There is one of the Silencers stationed not too far from the tower, but he prefers the wilderness." Lachance rather doubted that Hoar-Blood would come down from the higher parts of the mountains to the tower; the Nord remained a Nord and therefore preferred the wilderness that most resembled his home of Skyrim. "You will be safe there."

"What about you? If the Purification was ordered through the influence of the traitor…" She had put together the pieces by then. Unless he was a very good actor – and Lisette supposed he might be, if the situation required it, but not this one – Lachance wasn't the one behind this needless slaughter. His almost fanatical devotion to the Brotherhood said enough about that. However, from the point of view of the Black Hand, things might appear differently, "Lucien… _you _are the target… aren't you?"

"I've come to a similar solution." Lachance noted darkly. If there was anything pleasing about this, it was her cleverness. "In any case, this has become personal. And the next logical choice would be to kill you."

"So I was actually lucky to get captured when I did."

The irony of it hadn't escaped the Speaker, though he wouldn't consider it lucky, as she claimed. "The… timing wasn't entirely unfortunate."

"But I've got to return to the Mages Guild to report. Do you know anything about them; has something happened while I was… gone?" she opted for the safest wording.

"I've had very little news." Lachance admitted. Things had been very hectic recently. "It's doubtful that things have turned for the better, however. You've been gone from them for weeks; the Necromancers must have logically assumed you perished. It would be unwise to attempt to counter that assumption before they make their move. They would only try to dispose of you once again."

"I… suppose you're right."

"Of course I am." Perhaps she was ready to talk about things now… "Blanche… about the blood…"

"Very little of it is mine." Or perhaps not. Her assurance was curt and hasty at the same time.

He phrased the question differently. "Care to tell me how you got that sword?"

"It's Goldbrand… a relic of Boethia." She, too, was becoming adept at saying something without saying anything at all.

"I recognize it, but I rather doubt it was simply handed to you." Lachance remarked, lacing his voice with as much gentleness as he could muster. The result was far from mild, but definitely a bit less… cutthroat.

Credit had to be given to the fact that Lisette didn't cry. She didn't sob or allow tears to flow. The escape from Oblivion had broken her in a way that could never be mended. She now understood the reason some people had for killing – survival. "I… I had no choice… when I fought that woman, I didn't have to kill her, but…"

"Blanche." Unexpectedly, Lachance cupped her face carefully, forcing her to stop trembling. It worked admirably, perhaps too much so. Lisette stilled and managed to hold his gaze unblinkingly as she continued.

"I didn't care if I was going to die, so I refused to continue the mad experiments… I thought… well, he would have killed me if I was useless, but…" she drew a breath that was only a little shaky. "A shrine of Boethia was near the cave where Celedaen resided. He… he offered me up for the Tournament of Ten Bloods."

For the first time since meeting the girl over a year ago, Lachance was stunned to silence. Daedric lore wasn't his forte, but he knew the basics, as did anyone. The very mention of Boethia was enough to inspire fear in the hearts of cowards. And a tournament… he could imagine, without any further explanation, what this would entail. Fights like those in the Imperial Arena; but not for glory, not with Blanche. She was unable to kill for shallow desires even after having successfully taken a first life. But for survival… any creature would fight for its survival… if pushed far enough.

Imagining her alone, practically unarmed and crawling through the cinders of Oblivion…

Part of him wanted to embrace her now, but not to calm or console her; to congratulate and commend, perhaps. The very thought of such an idea was quickly discarded, if only due to her current state, but Lucien supposed it was more than simple pride and glee that induced such thinking. Instead, his hands merely slid across her neck and rested momentarily on her shoulders as she watched him with – was it? – expectation.

"You…" There _was_ an assassin somewhere deep within her, but she would never consciously release this part of herself again if her life didn't depend upon it. In a way, she was greatly repressing her true potential and perhaps her true self. For this moment, Lachance chose to respect that. "I seem to have grossly underestimated you once again."

"I didn't want to-" Helplessness frustrated her. "I wouldn't have, but…"

His hands gripped hers tightly, snapping Lisette back to attention. "Don't spare them a second thought." It was an order, not a request, and she found herself obeying it. "You wouldn't have received a single one if you were in their place. Fanatics cannot tell that the Daedra sacrifice their worshippers just as easily as they praise them."

Lisette nodded weakly, relaxing with a sigh only when the weight of his hands was lifted from her. "It's strange to be having this conversation with you." she admitted. There was a simple solution to that problem.

"Then let's not have it." Lachance noted, rising from the bed and taking her empty plate. It was rather bizarre to have such a lethal nursemaid, Lisette found herself thinking, but somehow, she found herself not minding. It was almost pleasant to be back in the strangeness she knew; comforting, certainly. "I'll go and collect the possessions you left here; with your permission, of course. You get some rest while you can. We'll be leaving in two hours, at most."

"You're coming with me?" She actually seemed surprised. Was she expecting that after putting such an effort into securing her safety, he would simply let her trek through the wilderness on her own?

"I have to place the next dead drop for my Silencer and it just so happens that the location is near the gates of Bruma." Lachance noted off-handedly. "It's only a minor inconvenience to take you to the city." Within the next few minutes, he actually managed to bring her a small tub of water and a cloth to dry herself off once she cleaned off the bloodstains. "Do you need help with this?" There was no irony or glee in the question; it was, for once, honest.

Lisette shook her head. From what she was seeing, strangely enough, she felt that the one who needed help the most wasn't her.


	24. Silk

Originally, I intended someone else to survive this chapter besides the scripted survivor (no spoilers before you read the chapter), but then I realized that not only would it be against canon and unrealistic, it wouldn't suit my purposes very well. This chapter is, in a way, meant to emphasize that Lucien and Lisette only have each other now as an anchor. Oh, and if the switching from Lisette to Blanche and vice-versa is confusing to you, remember that Lucien never thinks of her as Lisette, despite knowing her actual name and Lisette, while thinking of herself under that name, reacts far easier to the nickname by now. So yes, there will come a time when only Blanche will be used in reference to her, most likely.

Anyway, this chapter is a teensy bit shorter than usual (I think) but stretching it would have meant spreading it thin, which is something I didn't want to do.

Incidentally, the last chapter contained a mild goof which I corrected; I didn't remember to give Shadowmere to the current Silencer, which is also somewhat plot-critical. It's also corrected in this chapter, just to clear that up in case anyone gets confused why Lucien has a different horse now.

**o.O.o**

**Silk**

**o.O.o**

No one stopped them on the way from Cheydinhal.

The Oblivion gate looming in front of the city like the very mouth of hell was enough to send the less courageous citizens of the city running from its walls in secret, especially if they had different homes to hide in. With both of them dressed the part of a bourgeois couple, no one paid them much attention; Blanche always used a bag of holding as a method of transportation of her belongings, thus the new and outlandish armor was simply added to that. The only remotely civilian clothing she possessed was the dress she had received from Erline so long ago and Lachance often traveled under the guise of a rich merchant. Besides, every Sanctuary was more than equipped to allow its members to infiltrate with ease. Black robes were hardly the clothing norm in Cyrodiil.

Seated together on a single horse with Blanche riding side-saddle partly due to the length of her gown and partly due to her weakened state, nobody would have guessed what they were. The guard that let them out of the gates actually quietly commended Lachance on the decision to take "his young wife" away from the battle due to her "sickly state". How considerate of him, they should take this and this road to get away from the city quickly.

Lisette made no comment on this; she most likely didn't even notice it too much, in light of something she realized only when she was sitting on the horse and its pace began to hasten. The stallion or mare – she couldn't really tell right now – galloped smoothly, but without the unnerving silence and even precision she remembered from Lucien's steed. The color was also somewhat off. This was a different horse.

"What happened to Shadowmere?" she asked once they were quite far away from the city, though close enough to see its walls still. If Lachance was surprised by her sudden attempt at conversation, he didn't show it.

"It was time she was passed on to someone who required haste more than I." His eyes remained fixed on the road before them, as if he knew it by heart. Still, that was no answer, but Lisette could think of only one person who might have received a gift of such magnitude.

"Your Silencer?" She still didn't know the name or even race; the only attribute that had been disclosed to her was gender. Lachance didn't reply, so she considered that a yes. "You trust him so much that you gave her to him?"

"A decision made out of necessity."

Parting with one of his most precious possessions – his only constant companion, as it were – had been a difficult, but logical choice. It was a temporary arrangement in any case; Shadowmere hadn't taken to a new master as readily as a well-bred horse might and proceeded to throw him off several times simply because she had wanted to. The Silencer himself had suggested that the horse be returned to Lachance upon completing the current urgent missions, as he preferred means of transportations that didn't try to trample him when given the chance.

Blanche answered with a mild frown, staring into space. Generosity wasn't an attribute she associated with him, it seemed.

"I had intended to give her to you, if it brings you any comfort." the Speaker noted, rather against his better judgment. This surprised the girl enough to glance at him momentarily, obviously not being able to realize why. The reason was simple; the mare had a perfect sense of direction and never failed to return home. It would also protect its rider, should the need arise. Both aspects would have proven invaluable to her defense.

She never realized this.

"You are acting strangely." When they spoke together, Lachance was usually the one who responded in cryptic witticisms meant to disclose only a certain amount of information. Or, given enough reason to, calm seriousness that also didn't allow one to see the inner workings of his mind. Compared to that, this was practically laying his heart on his sleeve. "Is the situation that desperate?"

Lachance gave a tight, grim smile. "Nothing is certain."

They scarcely spoke a few words afterwards, riding for hours that seemed endless. Lisette actually felt consciousness slip away from her at one moment, only to find the landscape around them completely different than she remembered the moment her eyes fluttered open. Surprisingly, she hadn't slid an inch from the horse's back, courtesy of an arm around her waist holding her firmly in place. That being leaning back somewhat, using the very rider holding her in place of a pillow.

That she could actually feel a heartbeat steadily against her cheek despite her drowsy state was no longer something she could make light of or consider cynically. There was a human being underneath the assassin, and that person was currently allowing her to invade his personal space.

By the time their ascent of the mountains near Bruma ended, their horse was obviously struggling with its strength. Lisette forgot to even shiver as she beheld Frostcrag Spire for the first time, though. The tower, a marvelous contraption of stone and magic, was both beautiful and entirely defensible, overlooking the plains beneath it majestically. There was no stable for the horse, but Lachance was able to secure the horse well enough to allow them entry free from the thought of having their ride vanish on them.

Lachance would have likened Blanche's exploration of her new residence to that of a child searching for her birthday presents a day before the celebration. At first astonished, then enthusiastic, persistent and, to a degree, whimsical.

Whatever fatigue had plagued her was shaken off so quickly it might have been miraculous. She forgot the coolness of the mountain air, the lengthy journey and the circumstances which had brought them here. The mage within her awoke, beating down any other impulse. The Speaker, of course, had been in the tower before, if only to investigate its position and safety. In both aspects, it excelled, despite the proximity to Hoar-Blood's camp. Knowing the Nord, this tower of wizardry likely exemplified everything he disliked, so the chance of him turning up one day was quite small.

Whatever the general satisfaction he felt when deeming this place fit for Blanche might have been, it was strangely dwarfed by the moment Lucien handed her the candles she apparently needed to reactivate the magic of the tower – he didn't apologize for technically violating her privacy – something apparently only the named heir to the property could do. For a single moment, all the weariness and worry vanished and her countenance held nothing but sheer radiance.

That for a singular moment, this – Lachance could find no other word to describe it when confronted with it – light was directed at him was more perplexing than the Speaker cared to admit. It wasn't the reaction most people would have given.

In retrospect, that had been the moment when Blanche had gotten completely over her temporary imprisonment in Oblivion.

The tower was everything a mage might dream of, Lisette discovered as she practically ran around with glee and explored the place rather quickly. The altars would require deeper study once she had the time, but it was the alchemy garden that filled her with utter delight. There was flora of all kinds from Tamriel and even Oblivion itself present, domesticated as well as rare.

Much effort had been given to the construction and design of this tower and she wasn't about to let it go to waste. It went without saying that, with all the equipment and ingredients at her disposal here, she would easily be able to entertain herself for weeks if not months, if pressured to stay.

Then she discovered the teleportation balcony.

Instead of a railing, there were portals aligned in a half-moon shape across the floor with inscriptions in golden filigree before them. Each spelled out the name of a city in Cyrodiil; the one in the center stated "Arcane University". Lisette immediately guessed that each of these portals would transport her to the appropriate guildhall. The trouble, she correctly supposed, would be getting back to Frostcrag Spire, but the hall into which she intended to teleport was close enough to allow fast travel even on foot.

Bruma. She would go to Bruma with Lucien and make her case before Jeanne Frasoric.

Let it not be said that Lisette's opinion of Jeanne had increased in the few months she had mercifully been freed of her presence; far from it. but despite not being able to magic her way out of a sack, Jeanne was head of the Bruma guildhall for a reason – connections. And that was what Lisette needed now, connections to vouch for her sincerity so that she could push the Council towards action against the Necromancers.

Lachance was reasonably less thrilled by the brilliance of her suggestion than she was; after all, it was his intent that she stay hidden from the eyes of the mages for now, so that the risk to both of them was minimized.

"Care and caution is what the situation requires. Both of us are an inch from being proclaimed traitors to our respective guilds."

Lisette, however, wasn't this quick to lose faith. The Mages Guild had been her home for some time; she wouldn't simply discard it. "I was already accused once; the situation is new only for you."

"Which is why you are very stubborn and naïve to try and return to them." It was a decision based on emotion, not logic. While the Speaker had no doubt that Blanche could aid the mages greatly in their battle, he didn't exactly relish the thought of throwing the only person whose loyalty he was assured of into the field. "Perhaps the Mages Guild is beyond saving, if the Necromancers have taken root in its heart."

"I could say the same of the Brotherhood if I wished to be cruel, Lucien. I have to try."

She would fail, of course. Neither of them thought much of her chances in this. A Breton without connections and no higher standing in the Mages Guild – Warlock was a high rank, but not high enough to hold any true influence – was hardly enough against an enemy so old it might be considered ancient. Fortunately, Lisette held no delusions of grandeur; she didn't believe herself a hero and didn't for a moment think that her surprising victory in Oblivion was proof of any skill in true battle.

A pensive, hard look settled in Lucien's eyes before he decided to accompany her – and, naturally, ensure that her presence in Bruma remained as unnoticed as possible – a look that easily contained many layers of disapproval. And Lisette realized that the moment when she would have to choose between the mages and the assassins would come, perhaps sooner than she believed. And that perhaps, it was for the best.

Once they had eaten somewhat – another aspect of the spire Lisette appreciated was that it was well-stocked in every way – they stepped into the Bruma portal together, the only change in their attire being the heavy cloak which now hung from Lisette's shoulders, with the hood that would shroud her face more than adequately once they would leave the city.

Had she not reread the plaque twice to make certain they were choosing the correct portal, Lisette wouldn't have recognized the guildhall as her home of so long ago.

Despite them arriving at the crack of dawn, the fires of dusk illuminated the reception hall, casting shadows over the debris that might as well have been a decoration, due to its surprising prominence. Heavy blocks of wood blocked their path in several places and furniture had been thrown akimbo all around. A sound like the wail of a chilly wind pierced the crackling of the flames. Before Lisette could realize what was going on, a frost spell hit her, making her knees buckle and give out underneath her own weight

It wasn't merely the thin layer of ice that formed over part of her skin that made her freeze, though. The echo of the wail of death made her blood run cold.

Lachance, with no attachments to this place whatsoever, was much quicker to react. Whence he drew the silver shortsword even Lisette hadn't noticed throughout their journey was a mystery not worth solving. He promptly stepped away from his collapsed companion and, within a manner of seconds, evaded another sluggish spell from a second wraith. The weapon melted into a shimmering streak in his hands and pierced one wraith with a quick twist. The undead attempted to claw at him with its ethereal fingers, but Lachance dodged another spell, withdrew the sword and severed the wraith's head in a simple spinning move.

The crescendo in the remaining wraith's wail alerted the Speaker to an impending attack. It was all the time he needed to duck while striking at the wraith's lower section. The sword twisted in the middle of a vertical slash, the blade turning upwards. With one fluid movement, Lachance split the creature in half, rising at the same time to see if there was any other enemy in the vicinity. But they were safe, for the moment, and so he briskly walked back to Blanche and pulled her up to her feet.

Horror had been replaced by awe in her eyes. She had never seen Lucien fight; not really. It was very different from the style of the other assassins she had witnessed. Gogron sacrificed all style in favor of brute force. Antoinetta struck swiftly from the shadows, like a thief in the night. Telaendril was the bird of prey patiently waiting to swoop down on its enemy. But Lachance… Lachance was most definitely an assassin. No other word she could come up with encased his movements at least partially.

He didn't inquire about her feelings or state of injury, which she was grateful for. The latter was inconsequential – a simple frost spell wasn't enough to cause permanent damage – and the former, she wasn't certain she could adequately express. Nor did she want to delve into the matter that it was most likely these gloomy sentinels were a remnant of the massacre that had doubtless transpired. This was a glove thrown openly into the face of the Mages Guild; one that could no longer be ignored.

Quietly, she cast a Detect Life spell on both of them. If anyone was alive or present still, there was no doubt that they had heard the wails of the wraiths, despite the eerie near-silence with which Lachance had moved. Moreover, the path to Jeanne's room was blocked by a particularly fierce bonfire which Lisette intended to put out later, once the fighting was over. There was only one other route they could take, which meant going through the underground living quarters.

Lachance noticed that her jaw tightened uncomfortably when sidestepping the corpse of a black-haired Imperial woman and that Blanche deliberately didn't look at her face. It was a grim deja vu for the Speaker; having been forced to look into the faces of his fallen underlings, slaughtered under his orders, had been painful. Imagining how Blanche felt about this wasn't too difficult for him.

In this situation, leaving her alone was dangerous. Allowing her to go back to the mages was out of the question.

Her spell, while a fabricated substitute for a warrior's intuition and trained instinct, was more than effective for detecting unlife as well. Lachance was still faster than her, though, and had another wraith impaled before she could get out her first spell. Lisette took this in stride, however, this time ready for the attack. She simply shifted her aim to the next undead already gliding towards them. And though he had seen Blanche cast many times, be it in combat or a peaceful environment, he had never seen any magic of hers explode with such fury. She stayed her hand while he finished the work, though, apparently sensing that her control was slipping somewhat.

The last wraith on the stairs felt the impact of something other than a spell, though, when it cast a silencing enchantment on Blanche. Lachance himself was surprised when she actually drew the polished katana from Boethia and severed the creature's head. Even silenced, she could still cast, but apparently for once, the mage allowed her anger to be channeled and vented through the swipe of a blade; a much more effective outlet.

She wielded the blade with all the finesse of an Orc; like one would a meat-cleaver, perhaps, but wield it she did, nonetheless, swinging it with both hands to ensure she would need only one strike.

The life-detecting spell expired once they set foot on the upper floor, stepping over further corpses of mages. In a flash of light, Lisette literally blasted the door to Jeanne's room open with a fire spell, which also happened to strike the solitary Necromancer sniffing around the room in search of something. The woman's shriek put all the wraiths to shame, as she was alive enough still to feel the flames licking her skin, bent on devouring her. At first, Lisette felt a pang of fear at the thought of having hit one of those she had come to save, but once she saw the insignia on the woman's black robe, her anger drowned any other sentiment full-force.

In this case, Lachance simply watched as Blanche hurled another fire spell at the Necromancer, this time managing to trap the woman in an immolating cage. But grim satisfaction evaded her even as she stared at the charred remains of her enemy. In the corner, Jeanne Frasoric lay dead, her eyes even more vacant than they had been in life.

Lisette felt the weight of a calming hand on her shoulder, but it did little to ease her feelings. "They are all dead."

Before she could even finish the words, Lachance was halfway across the room, his left hand lashing out into air and curling around what seemed to be air at around throat-height. Air didn't make an audible thud when hurled against the nearest wall, though. Air didn't whimper in fear when an obviously lethal sword was far too close to its vital veins.

The spell of invisibility flickered and a Khajiit in a haggard robe appeared, eyes wide, attempting in vain to edge away from the sword. Even if he wasn't one of those they weren't going to kill, J'Skar would have been no threat.

Lisette quickly ran up to the Speaker and took him by his sword arm, shaking her head. J'Skar slumped to the floor upon being released, still trembling even when Lachance sheathed his weapon. These eerie rescuers did little to ease the Khajiit's mind, not least of all because they both were dressed in colors of the night. As the Necromancers had been.

"You are safe now." Her voice wasn't quivering with barely-suppressed anger, Lisette hoped. "There is no need for fear."

"Are they... are they gone?" The cheery, carefree J'Skar that Lisette remembered was gone. In place of that was a horrified creature, broken by the fear. "I was too afraid. I just couldn't move. I could hear the screaming, but I just couldn't move! He killed them all. Just... slaughtered them. I... I saw his face. I saw the King of Worms!" the Khajiit babbled on.

Even Lachance glanced at him sharply at this. An attack of this magnitude had obviously required planning and a swift execution, but having their leader come here personally had been an extremely risky move.

"I couldn't believe my eyes. I think the only reason I'm alive is because I was invisible... but even so, I think he saw me." Both Lucien and Lisette arrived to the same conclusion almost in sync; he wanted a witness. An attack with no witness served no point. "He killed them, one by one. Volanaro was last, I think. He was trying to run away, but he didn't make it, did he?" Lisette might as well have not bothered shaking her head. "The King of Worms stood over him, right before he died, and he... well, it looked like he sucked out Volanaro's soul! Then he looked right at me and grinned!"

"The Necromancers are gone now." J'Skar wasn't listening to her.

"He might come back if he knows I'm still here." The very thought was apparently enough to scare the living daylights out of him. "I'm not staying here! I'll go to the Imperial City! Hannibal Traven can protect me."

At this moment, Lachance very much doubted that even Traven would be able to piece back the Mages Guild. The Necromancers made up in efficiency what they lacked in the skill department. They obviously weren't going to rest until the Mages Guild was wiped out; this massacre, while sending a powerful message, was likely the first of a series of systematic raids. It had begun, at last.

"In your current state, you would be an easy target for any and every highway bandit on the way." Lisette frowned, speaking next to Lucien more so than to the Khajiit. "I'll go with him."

The Khajiit, now certain that at least her he could trust, practically kissed the hem of her cloak in gratitude. "Thank you, Master-Wizard! Thank you for coming to our aid!"

"A foolish and doomed effort, Blanche." Lucien interrupted as she drew away from the Khajiit, who finally recognized her through the wall of fear in his mind.

"Blanche-?" Lisette attempted to muster a smile, but her mouth was grim and her eyes remained cold, more grey than blue. But it was indeed her, despite the longer hair and noble clothing. "By the Nine! We-we never thought we would see you again!"

She somehow looked much different than previously, though, and J'Skar didn't dare embrace her as he might have done when he had last seen her. Not least among the reasons for not doing so was the presence of the dark-haired Imperial, whose frosty eyes made the mage feel as if he had been caught stealing from the man's home when he as much as spoke the nickname Volanaro had given Lisette ages ago.

"We heard Jeanne when she read the letter from Raminus Polus, but that is an outrage!" Ah, so that was the reason why they had believed she wouldn't be returning to them. "You are no Necromancer – and now there is proof of that!"

The Arcane University would now know everything, Lisette realized. That they had been betrayed by some of their own, that Mannimarco was definitely on the move… but most importantly, that she was innocent and yet wished to help. Lachance saw all of this flash through her eyes, reading her as easily as a book.

He didn't like this way of thinking.

Drawing her away from the Khajiit, he didn't even have to speak to present his argument. They had cast her out, abandoned her, sent her on a quest that would have most likely resulted in her death if her strength wasn't such as it was and now, she was about to rush in to save them.

It wasn't presumptuous to believe that she would now be hailed as a hero and thrown to the wolves as quickly as possible. After all, masses treated their champions that way.

"You know you don't have to go through with this." Instead, the Speaker simply put his hands on the girl's bird-like shoulders, saying that which was truest of all these arguments. "They will realize their error eventually and move to correct it, even without your intervention. You owe them nothing and you know it." _This is not worth putting yourself in jeopardy._

And Lisette knew this well enough, along with the fact that she could simply walk away now, with no one being ever the wiser. However, she didn't believe in abandoning ship, as it were, due to complications. Perhaps she didn't owe anything to the Mages Guild, per see, but she owed it to Caranya, for betraying her; to Raminus Polus, for believing in her and to herself, if only to justify all that she had been through.

Perhaps she was a little closer to the assassins at heart than she had thought herself to be.

"I know." she said solemnly, studying the destruction all around them. "But I _want_ to go through with this, Lucien." His name was spoken quietly, softly, so that even the keen Khajiit ears couldn't pick it up. Or perhaps it was a caress meant to mollify him, failing miserably. "Please don't try to stop me."

She needed to do this. Not to be a hero, not to prove anything to anyone. She needed to do this so that she could seal off her life with the Mages Guild permanently, with no regrets. This was her way of cutting ties, Lachance supposed, a way of leaving the past behind without any regrets.

Understanding hardly meant approval. Part of him still hoped to talk her down from this rash course, but... there was something in her face that made him settle for a tight grip on her shoulders.

"You will come back to the Spire?"

"The moment I am done." The words contained a promise; that she would wait there for him, once the time was right.

A different man might have allowed his practiced calm to slip on an occasion of parting. If briefly touching her hair in a gesture too fleeting was a caress on someone's terms and therefore a display of sentiment, then Lachance had displayed emotion. Lisette, feeling every inch a child waiting for a parent's approval of her wishes for the first time in her life, felt the anxiety drain from her upon the contact.

"Try not to get yourself killed, brave innocent." Lachance muttered, voicelessly asking Sithis to guard the steps of his protégée.

The breath Lisette didn't know she had been holding was released as she nodded humbly. She hesitated when the Speaker turned to leave, but then caught his arm in before he could vanish in a rare feat of dexterity. It surprised even Lachance, who looked at her with unreadable eyes.

For a second, she believed she could never say it. But then, the words came out as naturally as a breath.

"Walk always." she whispered, letting the shadow go.

And though he vanished almost within an instant, Lisette caught the momentarily surprise in his eyes just before his disappearance. Once Lachance was gone, she felt very alone, even once she remembered that J'Skar was still in the room with her, silenced by sheer fright.

"Lisette, who was that?" She didn't answer. "Lisette?" No one had called her Lisette in a very long time, she realized. Only when her other name was voiced, did she snap to attention. "Blanche?"

"Oh. He is…" _An assassin of the Dark Brotherhood that tried to kill me when he first met me. _ "He is…" _The one person who I would very likely kill for to save. _

There were many things she thought about Lucien Lachance; most of them she couldn't mention to anyone but him now, some she barely dared to speak to herself. In the end, what did it matter? As long as she realized this, there was no point trying to find the words to describe it to someone else.

"He is a very dear friend of mine."


	25. Paper

As we need to wrap up part of the story, this chapter is rather fast-paced and Lisette-centric. Expect a Lucien-centric chapter soon!

**o.O.o**

**Paper**

**o.O.o**

As returning to Frostcrag Spire was impossible if its secrecy was to be maintained, the only way to return to the Imperial City was to ride.

The Academy appeared somewhat more fortified against enemy attack, though that might just have been her imagination. The battlemage that blocked their path was doing so in an automated motion, though with the hint of uncertainty. The combination of her noble-looking clothing and J'Skar's rather worn robe must have appeared thoroughly bizarre.

"Halt! By order of the Council of Mages, identify yourself!"

Lisette bit back a sigh. Here she was, with the greatest urgency – and only _now _would security measures start blocking her path. Nevertheless, she didn't show these feelings to the man and dutifully (if more coolly than she initially intended) recited her purpose. "Escorting Journeyman J'Skar of the Bruma guildhall, Warlock Lisette Lemieux."

Some of the nearby mages that were familiar with the name appeared rather dumbstruck by this turn of events. One, however, had his enthusiasm overcome his surprise and pranced forward. In full armor, Lisette barely recognized him, but the voice she remembered from so many tavern evenings she had been unwillingly dragged to was that of Ivar, Merete's cousin, who she hadn't seen for months.

"Lisette!" He recognized her immediately, though, rushing towards her and this time pulling her into a bone-crushing embrace that reminded her somewhat of Gogron. Lisette barely returned the gesture; she had no will for it, the memory of her orc friend seemed too near. It was too brief and sudden. "Let her through, let her through! What happened to you? you were gone for so long! The Council proclaimed you missing in action; everyone thought you dead!"

Somehow, this didn't surprise her.

"For a while there, I was." she said with a tight smile. But this time, she had all her letters with her, including the one that Caranya had signed; the order for her termination. This time, she couldn't be ignored.

"Who's this?"

"From the Bruma guildhall." Lisette answered curtly as Ivar's broad shoulders managed to make them a path through the gathering crowd. "The Necromancers have struck it; he's the only one who survived."

Ivar stopped briefly, glancing at her in a rather dumbstruck fashion. "Bruma? You were in Bruma."

"I can't say much. But I need to see Arch-Mage Traven or someone in authority as soon as possible."

"Only Master-Wizard Polus has access to the upper levels of the tower now." At least some security measures had apparently been introduced. It was a start, but Lisette rather doubted that some meager fortifications would be sufficient against the King of Worms.

"Good." There was no point wasting time. In fact, that could make things worse. "Let's go find him."

"Now?" This time, Ivar actually looked stupefied, though for a different reason. "Merete will kill me when she finds out that you didn't go to see her…"

"And others might die if I don't get to see Traven right now." With that said, Lisette headed straight towards the main lobby, the others following her rather timidly.

The Master-Wizard wasn't in the lobby or the library, though and after some fifteen minutes of searching through the various more open locations, Ivar suggested they go directly to his quarters. It was a rather bold move, as they were all still students, to a point, and Raminus Polus, being so integral to the running of the University, very rarely retreated to his quarters during the day. If he did, it usually meant that he didn't wish for the company of others at the present moment.

Ivar was still somewhat wary of this move, but Lisette would not be denied. Apparently, the Master-Wizard was researching something from a large tome on his desk and didn't even raise his rather weary eyes when the heavy doors to his quarters opened after a short knock.

"I believe I asked not to be disturbed."

"Apologies, Master-Wizard, but this can't wait even a moment more." Lisette stepped forward without any hesitation; Ivar stared. Compared to her usual rather meek behavior – the one he remembered – this was downright audacious coming from her. This new fervor was strange in her.

Upon recognizing the voice, if not the attire of his guest, something close to surprise blinked its way into the Imperial's now-raised eyes. He observed Lisette for a good ten seconds before his voice returned to him and stood up immediately upon confirming that it wasn't some kind of vision but really his former student.

"Miss Lemieux…? By Akatosh, where have you been? We thought you were dead!"

"My friend already told me." Lisette motioned in the general direction of her companions. The question of how much she could and should say had haunted her on the journey here but now, it seemed much easier than she had thought. She would tell the truth, leaving out only the Dark Brotherhood and its involvement. "The Necromancer has been dealt with, which is all I can say about things."

"But where-"

"I apologize, Master-Wizard, but I can say no more." Not only because she couldn't say where she had recuperated, but also because she still felt the weight of all those weeks spent as a slave and then as a fighter on her shoulders.

Something about her expression must have betrayed this scar, because Raminus nodded rather sternly, though he kept studying her for answers.

"Very well." Momentarily, he turned his attention to her companions. "And who is this you've brought with you?"

"J'Skar, Master-Wizard." The Khajiit, now feeling safe behind all these walls and battlemages, managed to shakily introduce himself. "Of the Bruma guildhall."

"You bring news of Jeanne, then?" The question was directed towards Lisette again. She didn't know this, but Jeanne Frasoric had had the habit of sending letters to important members of the Arcane University at least once every two days. At least. "I was about to send someone to see what was wrong with her; her lack of correspondence, while relieving, is somewhat disturbing."

There was no pretext she could give to soften the blow, so Lisette decided to go with the pure truth. "Jeanne is dead, Master-Wizard. The Necromancers have begun their battle in the open."

Perhaps it made sense that Jeanne would stop trying to make connection only due to death, but it didn't seem so completely shocking to the Imperial. "Dead… they killed them?"

"Except my friend here."

"Master-Wizard, if I may…" The Khajiit continued only after Raminus nodded, feeling much more respect for the Imperial than Lisette was now showing. "Lisette isn't a Necromancer. She has saved my life. She would have saved the others as well, but unfortunately came too late."

But Raminus, realizing something else, turned his attention back to Lisette. "How in Tamriel did you get to Bruma from Cheydinhal?" His tone made it seem like a demand, though it was more of a bewildered question. When he received no answer, he turned his attention to the more problematic matter. "And your escorts?"

"Dead." To her credit, Lisette turned her eyes downwards for a moment. She hadn't forgotten the fate of those poor wretches, harsh as they had been to her. That she said nothing at all said everything.

Upon painstakingly gathering the facts, Raminus sank back into his chair. The lines on his face became much more pronounced when his worry increased. "By the Nine! At this point, I'm simply glad to see you alive, Miss Lemieux. But Arch-Mage Traven will want answers."

"I will give what answers I can." It was the greatest promise she could make. Considering what he thought the situation was – and such things were easy to assume, given her change in behavior and the fate of her companions – it wasn't too surprising that Raminus accepted this vow.

"Very well. Ivar, please accommodate our guest in the living quarters. Miss Lemieux, you and I will go straight to the Arch-Mage's tower."

**o.O.o**

Judging by the state of the Arch-Mage's private quarters, Raminus wasn't the only one who was researching something. But there was a greater degree of desperation about the almost-mess they saw in the tower; obviously, this was a matter of much urgency. Traven raised his eyes only to acknowledge Raminus, but then he spotted Lisette as well, which caused his rather fervent scribbling to come to a halt.

"Raminus, what brings you-…? Warlock Lemieux. I did not believe I would see you again. I don't believe I've ever been gladder to have been wrong."

"The mission Councilor Caranya sent me on has been accomplished, though I'm afraid my comrades fell victim to Celedaen." Lisette reported in a hollow voice when it became apparent that Raminus was going to allow her to speak first.

"I see." There was nothing surprising about this, as this was what they had assumed anyway. "I am grieved by the loss, but pleased at your return."

"We bring more news, Arch-Mage." Raminus took over, if only for now. "There is now a witness to Warlock Lemieux's innocence… the only surviving mage from the Bruma guildhall."

This was news that shattered even Traven's calm. "Only surviving? You mean to tell me-?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Lisette nodded. "The hall was attacked by Necromancers. J'Skar can testify to that. Before I left the city, I notified Countess Caro and the court wizard of the happenings there, so hopefully, they will clear things up before we have to. Nevertheless, everyone else is unfortunately dead. According to J'Skar, Mannimarco himself was there and said something about Echo Cave."

The Arch-Mage, having absorbed the news, some distressing, some even worse, leaned back in his chair and sighed deeply. "Bad news seems to have a way of piling up at our door. So it has come to this… the tidings you bring are graver than you might believe."

"I have brought evidence that overrules even Caranya's vote on the Council." Lisette didn't want to bring up her evidence just yet, because that would cause awkward questions about her escape, if there was still a chance the case might be solved without it. "Call up a meeting and bring up these points. We can strike back while they believe we are helpless."

"It isn't that simple." Traven countered. "The threat has been recognized, yes, but there are other… complications. Before you arrived, the Council met. We had in our possession a pair of artifacts that might be… tempting… for the Necromancers. These relics had to be protected, but the Council disagreed about the method."

"Arch-Mage… where is Caranya?"

"Gone." Traven didn't look pleased about this decision in the least, considering the latest news. "Both she and Irlav. By now, they will have carried their artifacts to the opposite ends of the province."

"The Arcane University is the safest place in all of Cyrodiil!" In this, J'Skar was right, Lisette believed. "Why allow this?"

"Miss Lemieux!" Even Raminus was somewhat surprised by this sudden change of attitude on her part. "What's done is done."

"No… she is right." Admittedly, it had been a bad move, the decision swayed by the enthusiasm of the moment. "It was a mistake to listen to their plan and I fear that it will cost them both dearly. But we can still rectify the situation. The Bloodworm Helm and the Necromancer's Amulet must be retrieved."

"Both Irlav and Caranya had a contingent of mages with them. If they cannot hold off the Necromancers-"

"We should simply retrieve the amulet and the helmet, but leave the Councilors where they are, as a diversion." Both men glanced at Lisette upon hearing the surprisingly reasonable suggestion from her. Not that she couldn't offer good advice on many things, but battle tactics weren't something she was renowned for being apt at.

"Of course; the Necromancers would still think that the items were with them… but… after what happened, I'm having doubts about Caranya's judgment." Raminus had never believed that Lisette was a Necromancer; and now with a witness on their side, the other Councilor's arguments seemed more extreme than necessary. "To send you on such a task under the guise of demanding proof…"

"I remember the accusations and the argument Warlock Lemieux made against her, Raminus. This will be a chance to test _her_ loyalties as well." How, Traven didn't specify, but it likely wouldn't contain any life-threatening mission. "All in good time, though; we must hurry. Fort Teleman and Fort Ontus are far away from each other. If we are to reach both of them in time, we must hurry."

"But-"

The door burst open before Lisette could even begin her objection. A messenger burst through, carefully evading both her and Raminus and bowing to Traven before handing him a letter and disappearing thereafter.

"Arch-Mage! Forgive my intrusion, but this message has just arrived for you! It's urgent!"

"Thank you."

Raminus and Lisette waited in silence while the Arch-Mage quickly read through the message. When he emerged from behind the paper, his face appeared a little more lined than before. There was no need to guess the reason for the slight change.

"I was right about bad news having the habit of coming in groups." Traven said, as one would normally sigh dejectedly. "Now we are all but ruined."

"What is it?"

"A confirmed Necromancer from the Cheydinhal guildhall, Falcar, has aided the cult more than we would have believed. They have apparently succeeded in artificially creating a colossal black gem to trap souls…"

"Then they are preparing for the final assault." Lisette concluded. She felt a slight chill pass through her, despite her hardened state. It wouldn't be long now. they intended to trap the souls of the Council in those gems.

"Yes. That gem is most likely intended for me." Traven added, following her train of thought easily. "They have gotten much bolder."

"If there's only one, we still have the chance to retrieve it and apprehend the one who created it." It wasn't an immense relief, but Raminus still hoped there was some ease to be found in the suggestion.

"Indeed. Falcar has to be eliminated and the gem brought here. And it should be done now, while the forces of the enemy are likely focused on retrieving the artifacts… it's our best bet." Traven stood up to pace around the room, coming close to his rather well-stocked bookcase. "I don't think we should tell too many people about this, however. If there are indeed traitors in the guild itself, it's likely that there are ears even within the university."

"Agreed." Raminus nodded, turning to Lisette momentarily. "Warlock Lemieux, on account of your defeat of an enemy of the Mages Guild, your bravery in Bruma and your unyielding loyalty to us, I promote you to Master-Wizard." Lisette, distracted, needed a minute or so to comprehend the magnitude of this and was about to object when the Breton continued. "The amount of good you've done for the Guild allows for the breach of procedure by allowing you to skip one rank, I believe." Briefly, he glanced at the Arch-Mage to confirm his statement, to which he received a nod.

"In any case, as half of my Council is missing in action, you and Raminus will have to take the place of my aides." The Arch-Mage added in support of that statement. "We must now decide how to deal with the situation. I don't much approve of risking the lives of loyal guild members simply for the sake of a diversion, but I realize it might be necessary. We should out the team to capture the soul gem first, to give them a head start and then send out the others."

"A reasonable suggestion, but we agreed not to let too many know about the retrieval. Miss Lemieux and I should go, one to each of the forts. It will be easier that way."

But Traven was against that for practical reasons. "I can't afford to lose either of you right now. besides, I believe… I believe both of you will be better used elsewhere."

"If I may, I suggest we send Dremora on this task." Lisette, who had finally found her voice, spoke up. She was still recovering from the fact that she was now apparently an equal of most her teachers in terms of rank. "They are more efficient than us if killing is necessary, will be a surprise if invaders have come to the forts and we can summon as many as we like. That way there will also be no casualties to the retrieval."

"Yes, that is… that is a sound plan." Traven nodded. "For now. The Dremora have to be summoned before you leave."

"Leave?" That part of the plan had not yet been discussed.

"Yes. I can think of no better candidate than one who single-handedly retrieved the Bruma guildhall." Someone needed to retrieve the soul gem, after all. Which was not to say that Traven regarded her with a completely trusting eye. There were holes in her story still. "A contingent of battlemages will go with you, of course. I can hardly expect you to go alone."

**o.O.o**

If going from Warlock to Master-Wizard within the span of minutes had been confusing, it was nothing compared to being faced with an actual battalion of battle mages that were apparently being employed as her guard. What was weirder still that they all saluted her as their superior, which, while true, was also peculiar.

All stood with military precision, except one, who was familiar enough with Lisette to be astonished with her being the one they were supposed to be accompanying.

"Lisette! By Talos, is that you?" the Nord almost didn't recognize her in the regal dress and with the severe expression, but Ivar had told her that their friend was back. she simply couldn't believe it. "Why didn't you come to see me?"

"Merete, hush." Thalfin, Lisette's former roommate and leader of the battalion, stepped forward and gave another brief salute. "Master-Wizard, we are ready and await your orders."

Merete could only stare. "Master-Wizard? Just what in Oblivion has happened?"

"We have a mission to complete." Thalfin didn' t tolerate such nonsense like friendly reunions after months apart, especially given the fact that Merete had played such a significant part in Lisette' s arrest.

"Mephala take the mission!" the Nord barked, stepping beyond her station without reservation. "You were hauled off to be tried and then they said you were on a task-"

"It' s a long story, for another time."

"-and now you' re promoted twice after being gone for a month to who knows where! Lisette, talk to me!" Merete used her given name - the actual one - only when things were truly serious. "What' s happening to you?"

"Merete, calm yourself or I will recommend that you be taken off the mission." Thalfin interjected when Lisette said nothing.

The Nord fell silent, though her question still hung in the air. Her bombardment of questions continued throughout the journey, whenever the wood elf was out of sight. There were some answers Lisette evencouldn't give. With her mind absorbed in her current task, though, she was less talkative than usual. Merete got very little even out of Ivar, who had been present for somewhat longer; it was certainly not enough to quench her interest in the matter. She, too, had been worried for Lisette. But apparently, this mission was of such supreme importance that everyone else chose to ignore the matter of her disappearance and return.

There would be hell to pay for that stunt later, Merete decided.

Silorn was a distant Ayleid ruin on an open plane, difficult to approach unnoticed even when alone and almost impossible to sneak into in such a group. The battlemages, though, seemed to be familiar with stealth and managed to approach the ruin relatively quietly despite their armor and heavy walk.

It was fortunate that the ancient fortress was in such a state of disrepair and ruin, as it wasn't too difficult for them all to hide behind some of the fallen walls and pillars. There weren't too many Necromancers visible patrolling the ruins from where they were standing, but that didn't mean there were many more hidden within the structure.

Some of the battlemages, despite knowing Lisette, were still somewhat peeved about having to take orders from someone who apparently knew nothing of combat. Even Thalfin was somewhat surprised that a scholar was supposed to be leading such a directly combat-focused mission.

Thus everyone watched her with expectation even while she was still surveying the surroundings.

"Does anyone see Falcar?" she asked, as she knew very little about the Altmer's appearance.

"By the entrance of the ruins, Master-Wizard, look!" A Redguard battlemage said, pointing in that general direction.

Lisette could make out the expensive gleam of fine clothing, but not the features of the obviously male figure. "Are you absolutely certain it's him?"

The Redguard grimaced rather as if she had eaten something that was highly spicy but she had to keep her composure. "I was the one he sent to retrieve a Ring of Burden from a well, milady; I'd know the bastard anywhere."

"All right, I'll take your word for it."

"Plan of action?" Thalfin asked curtly, returning to the forefront of the crowd of her companions.

"You know the skills of your comrades better than I, so I'll leave the organization to you." Lisette said after a moment's hesitation. After all, she already had a different plan of action prepared than the one they were likely thinking of. "No one make a move before Falcar is taken down."

"But how will we-?"

Thalfin didn't get to finish her thought. Her superior had vanished into thin air with a quiet invisibility spell before any objections to her idea could be raised. That the battlemages were bewildered was quite natural; they hadn't even agreed on the basic methods yet and one of them – their supposed leader, no less – was rushing off to action without any hesitation.

Still, Thalfin attempted to overcome her concern for the outcome of the operation and do the sensible thing; organize her comrades the best she could. It wasn't too difficult, as those with specific talents were already grouped together in case action was thrust upon them unexpectedly.

Nevertheless, the Bosmer had to admit that the invisibility spell had been executed rather well and, apparently, Lisette knew how to sneak around. It made sense, really, since she was more focused on defensive spells and needed to strike from a hidden location to have her offensive spells take the full effect.

What the battlemage didn't quite understand how Lisette intended to "take down" Falcar. To incapacitate him would require a much more powerful spell than usual and to actually dispose of him with a single spell – because nothing more would be available – would require quite a lot of firepower and possibly a spoken incantation.

What she didn't realize that it took so long only because Lisette was taking extra long because she wasn't quite certain her stealth would hold. Another invisibility spell might alert the more experienced Necromancers to her presence, which was the last thing she needed. Falcar was standing too close to the entrance of the ruins and she had absolutely no doubt that he would retreat into them rather than fight in the open, given the chance.

After all, if these ruins had been their base for such a long time, the Necromancers had surely explored them thoroughly and made precautions against the ancient Ayleid traps within. After seeing one of her former companions crushed inside, she had no desire to subject anyone else to such a fate.

Getting up the stone stairs and above the Altmer was the most difficult part of things. After all, she needed a clean strike and the man was taller than her by at least a head. There was a moment when she had to stop just a few inches away when he appeared to notice movement around him; fortunately, the instant didn't last long.

She felt the tension in her body lessen slightly when the feeling of almost being caught evaporated. If this was the first time she was doing something of the sort, no doubt Lisette would have found herself unable to. But after taking down the contestants of the Tournament of Ten Bloods, who had been hell-bent on hilling her and Celedaen, who had given her more reason for hatred than any other creature in the world, somehow, disposing of a single person whom she had no attachment to besides knowing he was an enemy wasn't as difficult as it should have been.

Only she heard the slow sliding of the sword out of its sheath. But many others saw the streak of flame that flared to life when she swung Goldbrand after moments of careful preparation; even, perhaps, the one for whose neck she was aiming. It was partly the fault of the swish, as she used her full force, just as before, just as she always did when she used the sword. What it lacked in finesse, the movement made up for in effectiveness.

Everyone saw the streak of blood and the moment her spell was no longer necessary and Lisette materialized in the world once again. She didn't manage to sever the head with a single swipe - her physical strength had clear limits no magic could enhance - but the arteries were cut badly enough to drive any person into shock, giving her the time to raise the weapon again.

The Necromancers all around the ruins snapped to attention upon hearing the gurgled gushes both the leaking blood and Falcar himself made while still conscious and afterwards and quickly proceeded to charge up towards Lisette.

By then, though, the battlemages had recovered from the momentary shock of seeing their gentle-voiced bookworm attempt to decapitate an enemy without much thought put to the gesture.

Apparently, there weren't too many enemies outside, no matter what they had thought, as the battle was over rather quickly. A stupefied Thalfin found Lisette rummaging through the still-warm corpse until she finally found the gem they came out to seek. She then announced that she would head back to the University and that the others should attempt to clear out at least part of the ruins, but by waiting for the Necromancers to come to them, as the traps laid within might be much too dangerous.

Merete' s concern was growing. This coldness, this instant action in the face of a moral dilemma, without hesitation... this wasn' t the Lisette she knew and remembered. There was something cold and alien in her now, something almost frightening and efficient in all the wrong ways.

It was deepening with every day on the road and not all of it could be blamed on the black gem in her possession.

Even so, the battlemages let Lisette through without any hassle this time and due to her status, the barriers didn't stop her from teleporting up to the very top of the tower. Apparently, the plan to use Daedra to bring back the artifacts had been a success, as she found the Arch-Mage studying one of them with a rather pensive expression. He looked up with a weary smile when she entered, though and seemed a bit more at peace when she handed him the black soul gem.

"I was right to have chosen you, Master-Wizard." Traven acknowledged, but didn't mention how the artifacts had come back into his possession. There was no sign of Irlav or Caranya and Lisette knew better than to ask. She assumed things quite easily nowadays.

"We have only stalled them." Given enough time, the Necromancers would replicate the gem and proceed with their plans; or do so without it.

"I understand that quite well. But the battle cannot go on like this. I refuse to sacrifice guild mages for this foolishness."

"But Mannimarco won't stop simply because his followers die." Lisette pointed out. Actually, dying might make them somewhat more useful for his purposes, but that was a highly gruesome way of thinking she didn't really want to get into.

"Of course not. Which is why the battle must be taken to him." Lisette didn't understand. "The core of the rot must be destroyed… and then, things will take care of themselves."

"Eliminate Mannimarco himself…? But Arch-Mage-!"

Traven raised a hand to halt her objections. "I know all too well the magnitude of the threat. But he will only grow in power if he's allowed to continue his campaign against us. He needs to be stopped before none of us will be able to reach his power level. And it will require the ultimate sacrifice." With the black gem in his hands, he looked most determined, but the glance he shot Lisette was warmer than one might expect. She had obviously realized what he intended to do and feared the worst. "No, not from you, Master-Wizard. The guild requires a leader… and this gem was intended for me."

Lisette blinked once, twice, her eyes widening with each moment. The words took quite a long time to sink in, but afterwards, her emotions actually exploded.

"You can't be serious! You can't do this! _I_ can't do this!" she added, which was possibly the more serious of the three.

"You have to and you will, Arch-Mage Lemieux." Traven's eyes glimmered when he spoke the title. It was a formal passing on of rank, something only the Arch-Mage could do, something that wasn't usually done unless the current Arch-Mage was out of commission rather permanently. "With the soul gem in your possession, no one will be able to transform you into an undead." Traven went on to explain. "And without the power to do that, even Mannimarco should find you a formidable opponent, with the Nine and even the Daedra on your side."

"Dying in battle is one thing, killing yourself deliberately quite another!"

"You will not be implicated in having killed me, Arch-Mage." In that moment, Lisette was forced to wonder if Traven knew more about her rather exotic allegiances than he let on. It was that instant of hesitation which caused her to miss the opportunity to intervene. "I chose you with the deepest confidence in your abilities. Lead your fellow mages well."

And then, as she had sealed the fate of others with a flash of fire, it was only fitting that hers would be decided with the same.


	26. Thread

I just wanted to say a big thank you for Silver for the wonderful review and the very valid points that were brought up in it. Especially the critique – both things actually have a reason, as you will find out in this chapter. I tried to make Lisette seemed somewhat of a cold determinator in these last few chapters, the kind of person who goes "I must go on… just one more step" before they reach their breaking point (also, I didn't want to drag the canon missions on too much, since they aren't of the utmost interest and significance). But both that and the baby-steps towards mild Mary Sue-dom from the outside point of view were (in this case) somewhat deliberate, since it was supposed to lead up to this – the sorely missed characterization.

Another thing was that I wanted to give Lucien some space as well, since he'll be a bit scarce from now on.

**o.O.o**

**Thread**

**o.O.o**

Just like that, Lisette found that her life – or rather, how she had planned it to be – was in relative shambles.

Traven lay dead before her, though not by her hand, having willingly sacrificed his life for her sake. For a foolish plan she had yet to comprehend that involved _her_, of all people, stopping Mannimarco. Limp, she slumped against the wall of the rich suite of the Arch-Mage, sinking to her knees as if she herself had been struck with an arrow; an arrow of responsibility, at least, which was a wound deeper than most, since it didn't allow the victim an escape into death. No; she had to continue… because the plan willed it so.

As the heavy beads of sweat poured down her brow, Lisette was forced to wonder if this had been Traven's plan from the beginning, which was why he had agreed to let Caranya have her way when she had been brought back from Skingrad. For a few maddened instants, it made sense to her as a great conspiracy, the mastermind behind it now dead, yet victorious still. And she, the pawn left behind, was to tie up the loose ends.

Lead your fellow mages and lead them well. Traven had assumed, based on her previous so-called capability, that she would survive. That she was fit to be Arch-Mage. Scratch that; she was already the Arch-Mage, though without ceremony, a staff or a confirmation from the Council. This was most unexpected, as usually, when an Arch-Mage abdicated – or, more probably, died, as few were willing to give up the post of power – the Council had to select a successor based on recommendations and…

Lisette shook her head rapidly. Now was not the time to impress her own small vanity with the fact that she knew the academic procedure well. She had to _think_…

…but that hurt, though not in the physical sense of the word. At first, she decided to calm down. That took a few moments. She took deep breaths and managed to conjure up a very sloppy and misshapen glass of clear water, which she promptly emptied into her own face to overcome the nausea threatening to come and conquer.

She was Arch-Mage of the Mages Guild of Cyrodiil. A far too complicated title, one that likely only her family back in High Rock – and it had been ages since she had remembered them last! – would be proud of. She didn't care. Or Jeanne, who would squeal and clap her hands, congratulating _dearest Lizzy… _or Bradon and Erline, the former who would give her a fatherly pat on the back and the latter a tearful embrace. And perhaps Merete and Ivar, since they knew no better, would be thrilled upon overcoming their awe.

Those two... she had left them behind, in a way, just as she had abandoned everything else over time. Her rank and title in High Rock, her makeshift family in Bruma, the University... all that had been there for her was the Brotherhood. And now the Sanctuary she had called her home without realizing so had been broken up, with only a few survivors to urge her onward. She had lost them too, though through no fault of her own this time, but her abandoning Lucien was once more her own doing.

And for what? She hadn' t intended on becoming Arch-Mage. Talos knew she didn' t want it!

Did she deserve it?

The simple answer was: no.

The title hadn't been passed to her due to any kind of fairness or thanks to her supreme magical ability. In the pristine room she had entered only once before, the chamber of utmost magic she had once dreamed of visiting with honor, Lisette gave a dry wail, like an animal cub crushed by a rock. She hadn't earned this through her skill in the arcane arts. She had been given this rank due to her… her association with the Dark Brotherhood. And the… _talents_ that had given her.

The Breton bit into her knuckles to stop the horrid sound from escaping her lips again. Her rapid movement up the ranks hadn't been a coincidence, she had known this from the beginning, but she had mostly flattered herself that these were mainly coincidences she had fortunately – _fortunately! _– turned around through a combination of blind luck and modest skill. No, she realized; her vanity was not small. She had thought she could be part of the Dark Brotherhood yet separate and had closed her eyes to reality, believing that she could walk through a tempest and surface from it untouched.

She almost wanted to bang her fist against the nearest flat surface that could withstand the blow, so that she could give her anguish physical form, not relieve herself of it. What had she survived the Tournament of Ten Bloods for? To become a trained mercenary? To be _tamed and honed_ for the Dark Brotherhood? Yes, the experience had hardened her! Yes, it had given her the strength to raise a blade and strike with it! Yes, she had cared for those in the Sanctuary, may they reach their Dread Father in peace! Yes, she had killed with intent, but-!

Lisette realized moments later that the water still dripping off her face contained traces of salt. So yes, perhaps she was weak to cry. Perhaps another would have risen to the opportunity and went on to be a hero from a fairytale – and slay the dragon, rescue the princess and receive her hand and half the kingdom. Through slaying Mannimarco, she was to justify her receiving the top position of the Mages Guild. And after that…

…well, was there any "after-that"?

She held no illusions about her own ability; even getting to Mannimarco would require slaying dozens of Necromancers. It wasn't something she had the ability or the power for, especially if she was to face the King of Worms afterwards. And she had to do this alone, as anyone without a crystal like the one Traven had trapped himself in had no hope of surviving the attempts to enthrall them in the worst possible manner.

The Breton shuddered, pulling her cloak tighter around her body, even though the room wasn't that chilly. It was, actually, a dream within the nightmare; a refuge in the darkness, if one wanted to be poetic. Though having the corpse of her superior in front of her was no doubt a freakish sight.

The Tournament of Ten Bloods had forced her to come to terms with the possibility that even she could take a life, if survival was necessary. And she didn't think it cowardice that she wanted to live on. Afterwards, she had slain Celedaen, not only because it had been her duty, but also because, after having spent weeks as a prisoner – little more than a dog, less than a slave, always kicked and spat upon, commanded and hounded day and night and even in her sleep – the anger and hatred built up within her could no longer be denied. There were moments when anyone would wish to see their tormentor dead and if one could justify it with facts and that the man would go on to hurt others if he wasn't stopped before reaching lich-dom…

Falcar had been a traitor who deserved death; of _course_. And Caranya had deserved her fate at the hands of the Daedra… but she could go on and on and on like this, justifying slaughter after slaughter, when in fact, such _cleansing_ wasn't any better than what they might have done. And one day, she would find herself slain by another, simply because she had turned into the very evil she wished to eradicate…

No. She had felt sick and horrified after each kill, despite not showing it. A sentient being could get used to killing – after all, before the dawn of civilization, one had to be a hunter to survive and it was easy to believe that a crazed man or mer was little more than a beast – but she could never grow comfortable with it. For her, it could never be a matter or survival or "just business" as the Dark Brotherhood termed it.

For her, it would always mean cutting a thread of life before it ended, forcing her to wonder who that person was, how they had lived and why their fate had been to be ended by her hand, at that very moment. And so, in that moment, she saw the image that sometimes haunted her in her sleep – the one with her as an assassin without a care for life, without regret, without anything but a sharp blade in her hand and near her heart. And she remembered the assassin she had accidentally stabbed when she had first encountered the Dark Brotherhood… and then, casting regret aside, as the assassins had taught her, she tore the image away and destroyed it.

Whoever others saw her as, whatever else she might become, she was Lisette Lemieux, the girl who had run away from the darkness to learn who she was. A killer wasn't one of those things.

Taking a deep breath, Lisette tried to calm herself with that knowledge. She couldn't promise to herself that she wouldn't take life again – that would be a loop most difficult to escape – but she vowed to her soul, the Nine, the Daedric Princes and even Sithis himself (perhaps out of stupidity, but most likely out of sheer determination) that she would do everything within her power to avoid taking life in the future whenever an alternative presented itself.

That was a good promise. It was a reasonable oath.

Now that she had come to terms with herself, the time had come to figure out what she was going to do next. She had to leave immediately after reaching a decision, of course; no doubt other mages would try to question or sway her from her path, which was the last thing she needed right now.

Of course, there was no way she could manage this on her own. Yet no one could help her. Sending in a single Daedra was foolhardy and going in alone was almost like going unprotected. But sending in many…

It was a gamble, but this time, she didn't have the entire Dark Brotherhood backing her if she needed it. this time, Lucien wasn't going to come rushing out of the shadows to save her (and she wondered, idly, where he might be and if he had succeeded in his own quest – evading pursuers and chasing down the traitor).

This time, she would have to fight on her own, as Traven had intended her to.

Gathering what strength she had left, Lisette dragged herself to her feet. She would need to visit the library before this. she would need scrolls and lots of ink and fresh parchment…

Goldbrand in its ornate leather sheath bounced against her robed leg and she recognized its presence for the first time since she had used it to end a life last. This sword, the testimony of her being the champion of Boethia, was the weapon of a warrior. She wasn't – would never be – a warrior, despite her brief tenure in the art of killing. Lisette hesitated. Getting rid of such a powerful artifact would no doubt inflict the wrath of the Daedra who had given it to her out of pride. It was also a testimony of her ability, one that many would recognize. And the sleek katana didn't impede her movement much.

Lisette kept it strapped to her belt without regrets.

The other weapon hidden in her clothing was the Blade of Woe, no longer virginal to the taste of blood, hidden in her robes. After her promise, it seemed a weapon she ought to discard. But Lisette kept it, as a reminder of her past association with the Brotherhood and the fact that she herself was no longer as innocent as she had been previously.

Her own appearance left a bit to be desired, but there was little to help with that. She supposed that, being technically the new Arch-Mage, she should dress the part, but she couldn't bring herself to rummage through the late Arch-Mage's belongings.

She left the Arch-Mage's tower as she was; sweat and tear-soaked, her hair a mess of tangles, purplish shadows beneath her eyes and her mind a determined frenzy.

It was early morning and there wasn't a soul to be found in the Mystic Archives when she arrived there at the crack of dawn. Apparently, Traven had been thorough in the preparation of his plan; the doors opened to her easily, something that had never happened during her time as one of the lesser ranks. Lights turned on when she passed bookshelf upon bookshelf, allowing her passage. She half-expected to find the materials she required already laid out for her, but Traven hadn't been that prophetic, apparently.

In the morning, when Tar-Meena entered what she considered her sacred domain, she found several stacks of books on two tables, some still open – but not on the pages Lisette had checked – and a note of apology that wasn't signed. She harrumphed grumpily, though she appreciated the sentiment, useless and misguided as it was.

By then, Lisette was far from the Imperial City, riding a horse she had dubbed Binky due to his almost too innocent eyes and tendency to chew on most any grass they encountered. Surprisingly, the animal had a calming influence on her. She still felt as if death itself was chasing her with the hourglass signifying her own impending doom, but ignored it in favor of the nature and the peaceful road. For some reason, bandits evaded her that night; perhaps it was the deeply-set frown that never left her brow or the coldness of her eyes pensive yet calculating. She still wasn't certain of the chances of her own survival.

According to the maps copied from the cartography book, Echo Cave wasn't far off from Bruma. To the west, to be precise. Briefly, she thought of Lucien and how angry he would likely be with her considering the fact that she was unable to keep her promise and return to Frostcrag Spire immediately after returning the stray mage to the guild. Oh, well. Broken promises were nothing new to her, not any longer. She had the promise to herself to keep, before all else. And if no one else was to die, that meant stopping the Necromancer threat.

It was, perhaps, not the subtlest of ways to arrive at a location meant to stay hidden, but Lisette refused to dismount without reason. That presented itself the moment she saw that the cave she was meant to enter had a wooden door, of all things. More importantly, one very startled Dunmer Necromancer was about to give her a highly poetic and inspirational speech about him dying before he surrendered the key, but was stopped by her horse's hooves colliding with his torso and being thrown against the very door he sought to protect. Lisette considered this one of the small pleasures of life.

She stroked Binky's mane while the horse affectionately licked her wrist and then proceeded to search for some grass to munch on.

As she was still new to this kind of thing, she pondered, briefly, what the assassins she had known and come to call friends would have done and which one she should emulate. None of them had her skill in magic, so she decided to try to fight like Gogron, surprisingly, though with some small differences. She sat down on the nearest stump of wood near the quasi-campfire the Necromancer had prepared for himself and pulled out a great roll of scrolls she had taken from the University. Each contained summoning spells, weak, medium-strength and powerful ones, in that order.

Lisette had decided to use the one advantage she had over the army of Necromancers in the cave – they had, as far as the master cartographers who had put this cave on the map and explored it thoroughly – no other route of escape. And unless the undead were especially effective burrowers, these recent maps had to be correct. Meaning that if any of them attempted to run, she could pick them off easily at the entrance. And if they didn't…

She began summoning up Daedra of all shapes and sizes, one after the other. And she proceeded to send them into the cave, one by one, then in groups when they appeared together. By the time some of the Necromancers managed to reach the door – heavily out of breath – there were enough Daedra around her to scare them back inside. Lisette didn't even turn away from her scrolls and continued the summoning. This way, it wasn't draining her own magicka anywhere nearly as dramatically as a full, proper spell would.

The mage had no idea how long it sat there, but she didn't run across a Necromancer that either wasn't either virtually devoured by the Daedra or surprised by the kick of a rather noise-sensitive horse loitering outside the cave entrance. The sun had moved beyond the hills by the time a great flash of light erupted from the cave, the force of the magicka blowing Lisette's summoning scrolls into the surrounding bushes.

Figures of mages, those that had fallen, arose from the ashes, seemingly of their own will. But once Lisette wiped the dust out of her eyes, she saw that it was the will of magic that they were resurrected. It was coming from a single point… a staff.

The mer who held it reminded her vaguely of Celedaen, but perhaps it was only the impossible height, graying hair and cruel eyes they shared. However, upon closer examination, one might get the impression that he wasn't entirely alive, but death didn't have the courage to claim him either. He appeared not even the slightest bit amused by having his underlings eradicated by what he now saw was a single mage – and not even Traven, to add insult to injury.

Lisette scrambled to her feet as quickly as she could and grabbed the nearest summoning scroll caught in a tree just before another horde of undead was sent her way and practically screamed the spell out. Zombies were nothing against swords, which was one of the things even she, a non-Fighters Guild devotee, could appreciate about bladed weapons. She almost stumbled over Goldbrand on her way to get some cover behind the nearest tree, but went tumbling downwards when an elemental spell blasted through said tree as if it were paper, not solid wood.

Whenever she tried to take aim for a spell, more zombies arose, resurrected again and again no matter how many limbs her creatures hacked off. And if she tried to get a better angle, the flora around her was suddenly aflame.

Too late did she realize that she was being moved in a relative crescent; not away from the cave entrance, but towards it.

The Dunmer Binky had knocked over was hit by the final spell intended for her, which was highly fortunate, both because the Necromancer had been about to try and jinx her and because she escaped with only the feeling of great heat. Her assailant was maneuvering things so that her only possible escape would be into the cave itself. Even as she cast one more spell that did nothing less than briefly divert attention from her, she realized this. But there was no other way than to go through with the plan, Lisette quickly summoned one further Daedroth before making a break for the cave entrance.

She had the layout of the cave more or less memorized after having studied the maps created by various cartographers studying this parts for the better part of the last decade. Echo Cave wasn't remarkable in any sense of the word and one would be hard-pressed to find distinguishing marks. However, now it was painted more brightly with traces of blood and body parts the mage sprinted past through the various corridors. There was no other escape and Lisette knew well that trying to run from the cave and collapsing it somehow would be an unreliable and impossible way of finishing this. She herself cast a strong Detect Life spell and continued on to where the corridor took her, until the path widened into a large rectangular chamber with what seemed to be an underground lake.

Lisette stopped briefly, gasping for breath as she considered her options very quickly before simply rushing forward to hide behind what appeared to be a Necromancy altar. There were strange bone-like decorations around she didn't like the look of and some torches she could possibly use against undead.

The one thing she failed to anticipate was the polished bones rising magically from their sheaths, like stakes, trapping her in a sickening cage akin to what a savage might make out of the remains of his food to trap the next course. If she saw a picture of this in a book, combined with the altar, she could have correctly deduced that it was a device meant for the horrified ritual sacrifice to wait its turn to be vivisected and then turned into one of the undead. The spell might have come from the Necromancer, whose calm steps she heard quite clearly, echoing through the cave. Obviously, he noticed that the nuisance had stopped moving.

From then on, Lisette anticipated the death blow with every beat of his foot. Contrary to her own supposition, she actually wasn't that afraid of dying. Of course she feared it as much as the next person, but she also considered it somewhat of a relief; something that would relieve her of the enormous duty Traven had left on her shoulders. Something that would prove to her and everyone that she wasn't anything worthy of having it in the first place. Strangely, this was a comforting thought.

Mannimarco appeared to be the personification of a winter wind; chilly, sudden, shrill and eerie. There when no one expected him to be, immediately striking you without fail or mercy. Lisette practically felt something beneath her chin, forcing her head upwards, though whether it was magic or natural dread, she could hardly tell. The King of Worms wasn't full of sneering contempt as J'Skar had described him. In this moment, any sneer was overshadowed by cool anger as he gazed upon the Breton with his almost razor-like eyebrows rising almost imperceptibly.

Obviously, he had been expecting Traven himself. Lisette thanked Akatosh and all her lucky stars that the gem protecting her from the worst of his magic was hidden deep in her robes, where no hand could reach for it without tearing her clothing in half. It wasn't a fact she was about to boast.

"So, this is Arch-Mage Traven's star-pupil. Caranya would have had everyone believe that you must be a Daedra of some sort, always coming back from the supposed dead." Somehow, even his eerily pleasant voice seemed to be drilling straight through her heart and not in the most pleasant of ways. "You look very much mortal to me, Lisette Lemieux."

How the King of Worms had decided that her name was worth remembering was beyond her. She wasn't going to argue or correct him; that she wasn't a star pupil by far, since Traven hadn't spoken to her much more than five times, that she was now the current Arch-Mage and that the position was wholly undeserved, better to have been given to someone like Raminus Polus, who had been the true second-in-command, so to speak.

At the very least, she made the conscious decision to live up to the Necromancer's expectations, if the protégée was what he expected her to be. If nothing else, she wouldn't beg for her life – a futile effort in any case – or cover in fear. Since she was going to die anyway, she might as well go out with dignity, Lisette concluded, her panic subsiding a bit.

"Silence isn't golden if it renders the conversation dull." Lisette felt something twist in her insides, rendering them almost painful; it wasn't quite enough to hurt, but certainly sufficient to feel magic. That he was stronger was obvious, but penetrating given automatic magical barriers so easily spoke volumes. "Perhaps we shall chat for a while, since you really have no other options?"

The grip let go and Lisette felt herself gasping for breath. She hadn't even noticed that Mannimarco had already circled her, taking in her appearance fully, rather like a coroner examining their subject. Soon-to-be subject.

"I must say, I expected Arch-Mage Traven, rather than his star pupil. I am disappointed to see that he could not face me himself. I have met so many of his predecessors over the years. I developed a particular fondness for Galerion, ill-preserved though he may be. But here you are instead." he paused, studying her face in a manner that would have anyone cringing. To Lisette, it felt as if there was a razor gently scraping her throat. "You do have more cunning than I would expect from one of your Guild. Perhaps you'll be as useful to me as Traven would."

He didn't require a response, evidently, but waited sufficiently long for her to try and come up with one. What could she say, in any case? That he wouldn't get away with it? Insult him (not a good idea in her current situation) or proclaim her loyalty to her Guild (hypocrisy didn't become her too well)…

"I will not help you." she heard herself rasp out, her voice as calm as it could be; as it had been before she had understood that her strength wasn't enough for this. if she was to die, it wouldn't be so that her rest could be interrupted as a thrall. At least from that, she was exempt.

"You assume that your opinion matters."

And he was assuming that she had come unprepared, but she didn't say as much. She felt something pulling at her very soul, perhaps, if such a thing existed, trying to pull it out, break free from its earthly bonds. There was magic around Mannimarco, strong, powerful, trying to expel her from her own fleshy prison. This was how a thrall was created, she supposed; though dead and controlled, they retained some if not all of their abilities in life.

Some claimed that the process was rather like falling asleep and then waking up, like death, almost. Lisette called those people idiots, pretentious to believe they knew what such a thing felt like. No one could anticipate how death would take them.

Yet the colossal soul gem within her possession shone with a black light, repelling the sensation. How odd, the Breton thought, that something inherently associated with brightness could be dark. It was as if an invisible web had been woven around the edge of her perception, allowing only brief impulses of outside power slide through. After half a minute or so of trying to overpower it, the Altmer gave up, appearing grudgingly impressed.

He was careful not to reach into the cage and try to get within range of her hands, in case she tried to use a spell requiring physical contact. Even Lisette was confident that, given enough time, he would work a way around this somehow. She decided that his momentary surprise was all the time she would ever had to do something desperate and daring.

There was no room to back away among the spikes surrounding her. To set off a spell would mean have it explode into her face. In what appeared to be a move to grab at her captor, she reached out and painstakingly drew Goldbrand, almost cutting herself when she swung it wildly. But the move worked; fiery sparks shot off the shining blade the moment it cut through the walls of her cage like sunlight through clouds.

Mannimarco himself almost leapt back at the sight of the sacred fire-blade swinging far too close to his head for comfort, allowing Lisette the time she needed to carve herself a pathway out. she staggered back then, the katana held in a tight grip. She no longer wielded it as a claymore, leaving one hand ready to cast spells, if need be.

Lacking for any kind of cover now, she screamed out a summoning spell. Her Storm Atronach stumbled back upon being hit by a rapid spell, but its very existence allowed Lisette to dash behind the nearest rock with the bone-cage still shielding her back.

Not for long.

"Not bad for a student of your flawed guild." she heard when stone appeared to shatter and the Atronach vanished. "But your technique lacks subtlety. You have never faced an opponent of your own magical level or higher, yes?"

True, of course. But Lisette didn't have the luxury of being able to think on her feet and still be able to offer snappy comebacks. She was breathing heavily, trying to think of a potential escape. Another spell would have blown off her head if its impact with the rocks behind her had not knocked her forward and off her feet.

"But you have yet to reach your full potential."

The next spell almost rebounded off Goldbrand, exploding in a shower of sparks. The katana was magic more ancient than either of them. Lisette held it up in front of her while she scrambled to her feet, still trying to find a way to end him. He had to be killed, yes, but she had made her promise...

Another Ice Atronach sent his way was destroyed. Lisette didn't pray this time. Instead, she wiped the blood tickling down her face from where the rocks had hit her and prepared herself for a possible gruesome end.

"Perhaps you will yet prove a satisfactory test subject."

She remembered Celedaen, and how she had been less than dirt when an acolyte. Being a test subject would no doubt be even worse than that

"Don't you even want to know why I do this? Or why you yourself have come here? It certainly wasn't due to the bidding of your masters, not that alone."

Lisette firmly promised to herself that if she was to ever wear black robes, they would be sheer. She had no need for reasons; as the Dark Brotherhood had taught her, sometimes, things were just business, even death. and yes, her masters had told her nothing about the tasks that lay ahead, but she found that she needed to do this for herself as much as for them.

The time for subtlety was past.

Raising Goldbrand high enough for a plausible attack and holding it low enough to turn it into defense, Lisette chose desperation as her guide and charged. The sword deflected any possible spells aimed at her, but even though Mannimarco managed to paralyze her shoulder, she surprisingly dropped the sword mid-swing and reached out to grab his robes.

As she had done with Lucien, she focused almost all her energy on a Paralysis spell. A sword could at times be used to distract instead of a kiss; and in this case, it was preferable. She poured her entire power into the spell, making it stronger than she thought herself capable. The King of Worms, though resistant to much higher magic, had never thought he would be forced to defend himself against such simple spells. And when he slumped down in front of her, like a sack of potatoes, Lisette understood that their weakness was, in truth, the same.

For no one could be right in believing that they can step beyond their station without suffering the consequences.


	27. Coal

After a pause, here is the latest chapter – unfortunately Lucien-less, but fear not, ye fangirls, he will return. You can be certain of that. I'm having a lot of fun with this fic and will be sorry to see it finished, but also glad. I'll most definitely miss it and might yet write something else with Lisette… we'll just have to wait and see.

**o.O.o**

**Coal**

**o.O.o**

The problematic thing about a promise not to kill if not necessary was that Lisette had somewhat of a dilemma about what to do with an enemy that lay defenseless at her feet. An enemy too dangerous, too powerful, too clever to be left alive, yet still an enemy defeated. She wasn't lusting for revenge or killing, but Lisette understood all too well that if she let this one live in any shape or form, many others would be killed, by his hand or those of his followers.

The spell she had used to hold him in place would wear off eventually… and she had poured almost every scrape of magical power she had into it. There was enough left for one blast of magic powerful enough to slay or trap him, but she didn't know if murder – because this time, murder it would be, without question – was the solution.

The cave itself provided no help at all, except for the monumental altar that she noticed fully only after all the chamber had turned silent. It was oddly colorless, with very little displaying its true intent. The only true touch of color was shown in the object Lisette was looking for.

Soul gems weren't common or cheap, but this was the first time Lisette had seen black ones in such a large quantity. She picked the one that appeared most solid, largest and easiest to manipulate through magic. She didn't have much time or a lot to judge by, but she gave it her best educated guess.

Then, placing the soul gem on her subject, she began her experiment. Waste not, want not, she supposed… and if she indeed had to do this – and it seemed she did – she might as well do it in a way that wouldn't require more bloodshed. All the redness she had passed had made her stomach rather light on its feet, so to speak, almost ready to do backflips. Yet she managed to hold her control over her body, at least for now.

Mannimarco's eyes radiated hatred, but also a degree of fear, dulling when it seemed he was going to be able to break free before Lisette was done, rising when she once again laid her hands on his most vulnerable spots – his heart and lungs, to be precise. She spoke the spell out loud to maximize its effect and used more magic power than usually required. But draining the soul of one consciously resisting could be more difficult than she might believe.

Most creatures didn't resist; they had no knowledge of the method. Even Lisette didn't fully know what it was like until she experienced the full impact of resistance. Though physically immobilized, her spell had by no means hampered Mannimarco's magical power, and the counterspell – if it could be called that – hit her full-force. If Lisette wasn't exhausted and if she had any idea what being thrown in an icy ocean and sinking to the very bottom felt like, she might have used that as a comparison for the sensation. The power against her was almost ready to drown her, swallow her. It was trying to destroy her and stop her at the same time, so its effectiveness might have been split.

Might have.

But Lisette was giving it all she had as well and her movements weren't restricted. If need be, she could still whip out the Blade of Woe or reach for Goldbrand…. She didn't. She still believed she could do this, or rather, was too exhausted to believe in anything else.

The crystal began to glow, dimly one time, then stronger. Time lost meaning. Lisette could only feel the power pulsing between them, wrestling back and forth like a rather particularly nasty thumb war. Her eyes refused to work once or twice, showing her only darkness, but her determination won in the end.

There was a moment of… absence… when the crystal returned to its previous state of non-luminousness. Of what, she could hardly tell, but perhaps it was simply her own strength that was giving out. Her palms automatically stopped her from falling face-first onto the very cold rock underneath her or into the now-soulless corpse she pushed herself away from.

Never before had she felt such a form of exhaustion and eerie peace. Her stomach wasn't taking too kindly to things, but she needed to rest somewhat, otherwise she would never be able to make it through the blood-decorated corridors of the cavern without severe stomach problems. The stench of the dead hadn't yet reached her senses, but then again, there seemed to be a veil drawn over all her perceptions. Her magical power had been thoroughly drained and her physical strength wasn't far behind.

An hour passed like a blur, the space between her closing and opening her eyes.

She needed to get away from here, away from the death and darkness, before she herself sunk into it. Blindly, she grabbed the first thing that seemed to be able to support her weight. It was a wizard's staff, twisted and dead-looking, reminiscent to Lisette from books about evil. She knew its power, its significance – providing the proof she needed that she had indeed bested the King of Worms – but right now, she leaned against it blindly, like a woman four, five times her age should and staggered through the red-painted corridors of the cave on pure instinct and into the night outside.

**o.O.o**

Dead. Another one.

There was nothing to do but run. The first time he had come upon the scene of the crime, so to speak, Lucien had been clumsy, allowing others to catch up with him. Their assumption that he was at fault was logical and understandable, though Lachance was nonetheless irked by it. In all the years of service, he had never once displayed any sign of disloyalty; but then again, it was likely that neither had this traitor, this abomination that Lachance now knew had to be part of the Black Hand itself to know their identities, their most precious of secrets.

A rot in the very core of the Brotherhood. At the very least, this placed Blanche beyond any shred of guild; the only fortunate occurrence. The horse beneath him whined as the black-clad figure nudged it away from the carnage. It was no Shadowmere, something the Speaker now dearly regretted. Time was of the essence, however.

He cast a brief look over the cliffs where he knew Frostcrag Spire must lie. Then, with a blur, only the night remained.

**o.O.o**

The only impressive aspect of Lisette's entrance to the Arcane University was the impeccable grace of the horse carrying her. Her clothes were torn and dirt-bathed, her hair dusty and bushy like a bird's nest, her face pale and gaunt, the purple under her eyes resembling eyeshadow applied on the wrong eyelid. And yet, amidst the havoc that had undoubtedly been stirred by the realization that their leader was dead, the mages managed to notice her, one voice echoing above the others in particular, before the battlemages had the chance to question what kind of beggar had turned up at their gates.

"Lis- Arch-Mage Lemieux! You're back! And alive!"

Raminus Polus managed to make his way through the crowd of mages that fell silent upon hearing the title recently belonging to the late Traven associated with a different name. No one else dared approach the mounted figure, so it fell to the Imperial to help her off the horse. Lisette looked like the child of a forest sprite and a particularly ghostly wraith, but she gave a shaky sort of smile when she was allowed to retain her personal space.

"In that order, it would seem, Master-Wizard." Lisette's smile faltered as she drew the King of Worms' staff and held it up towards the man. Her energy was at a sufficient level not to need it this time and she wished to be rid of it, the memory of her most recent indirect bloodshed. "This should be put to a safe place and studied. I don't like the feel of it."

The Imperial was almost reduced to a state of speechlessness by the very sight of the accursed object, but realized the reality of the situation once his fingers made contact with the rotting wood. "The Staff of Worms! You-you've destroyed Mannimarco?"

"I've cut off the head of the snake, but its tail remains." Lisette heard herself saying. It felt like part of a dream to her, something not entirely real. She was watching herself gain the respect of the snotty classmates and nobles she had to encounter every day before, despite standing before them in ragged robes and resembling a beggar more than she ever had in their minds. "The Necromancers won't immediately know what happened."

Voices erupted, some hushed whispers, some triumphant shouts, mingling, crisscrossing, entwining into one gigantic hornet's nest of sound.

"But their power will be affected!"

"Praise the Arch-Mage!"

"What about Arch-Mage Traven? Is he…?"

"Everyone!" Raminus Polus raised his arms to silence or at least quiet down the ever-expanding crowd. He alone appeared to notice that their Arch-Mage appeared half-dead with exhaustion and stood on her own two feet through what was sheer determination alone. "This day will go down in our history as a cause for sadness as well as great joy. Arch-Mage Traven, in this letter, detailed his intentions before becoming part of his own plan to defeat the King of Worms. As his final act, he appointed Arch-Mage Lemieux to act in his stead and as our leader henceforth. These events will yet have to be formalized by ceremony, of course, but…"

Lisette felt the weight of a hand atop the frizzy mass of her hair, which would have likely forced to her knees if this was indeed a formal ceremony – mercifully, it wasn't.

"By the authority of the Council of Mages, I acknowledge you, Lisette Lemieux, as the appointed head of the Mages Guild of Cyrodiil, leader of the Council of Mages and Chancellor of the Arcane University. May your leadership be long and as prosperous as its unconventional start."

And the Mage's Guild of Cyrodiil was bowing to her, saluting her, and Lisette found that something within her appreciated this major victory about as much as she had appreciated being maneuvered into the plans of the Dark Brotherhood.

But she noticed Merete in the crowd, restless, staring at her like one might at a stranger. Someone, at least, had questions that had to be answered. Lisette wondered how she might accomplish that, if she herself remained so confused.

Only Raminus Polus possessed the jurisdiction – so to speak – to enter the Arch-Mage's – her – quarters. It still felt like a vision from a dream to the Breton, even as he allowed her to step through the portal first, even as she drank in the sight of the tower that was now her home and sat down on the nearest flat surface, that being a reading chair.

"We will have to schedule a date for the formal ceremony, but I believe no one has any objections, so it might be within a matter of days." Lisette nodded, sinking into the chair comfortably. She needed more rest now. "There should also be no objections to having whatever possessions you still have to the Tower and your proper quarters. Is that as you wish, Arch-Mage?"

She blinked her eyes open, recognizing the deferring tone and mild pause that awaited her reply. This was real.

"Yes… yes, it is. I quite readily confess that I have had little to do with regulations beyond what any student here learns… Raminus. I believe you will have to educate me about my duties from now on." Her tone was as humble as weariness could make it, which was sufficient.

Fortunately, the Imperial nodded readily, anticipating this. "Arch-Mage Traven specified this possibility in his letter… my apologies, Arch-Mage; I did not mean to appear unappreciative."

"I grieve for him too." It was a lie, partly. She grieved for each death, friend or foe, but she had no fondness for Traven, for putting her into this predicament.

Fortunately, Raminus knew too much of her old self to not consider her quiet words and downcast gaze something else entirely.

"I realize that. In any case, as you were elected his successor so abruptly, no one had sufficient time for your proper preparation. With the demise of Mannimarco, many will carry tales of you throughout Cyrodiil." Lisette cringed briefly, again a misinterpreted gesture. "If there was an Emperor, you would be required to meet with him and symbolically pledge your loyalty and services. I expect Chancellor Ocato will require a visit from you, if he finds time in his busy schedule. Rest assured that he will be informed of your ascension very quickly."

"Very well. We will also need to reestablish the Council of Mages, as we are rather lacking in members right now." That would give her some time to focus on the other problems she had.

"Of course. Ocato will no doubt want to have a word regarding the possible candidates, but the ultimate decision lies with you."

"I will listen to your counsel on the matter."

"Very well." She was still unused to people bowing to her, least of all those who had been her betters mere days ago. She moved to stand, but the Master-Wizard shook his head politely. "Your quarters, Arch-Mage. When you require any assistance, you will find me downstairs. The appropriate clothing will be given to you post-ceremony. In the meantime, feel free to make yourself at home."

Home. The word felt so awkward. What was her home?

High Rock? Certainly not. The Mages Guild in Bruma? Destroyed, long ago forgotten. The Arcane University? A refuge. The Sanctuary? Gone, riddled with ghosts. Frostcrag Spire? The Arch-Mage's tower? Inheritance, inheritance.

But she did so hate failure, disappointment and all the scruples that came with that. This was an assignment, like any other. With that logic, she could cope.

Servants brought her everything she needed to bathe to her very room, along with everything she had left of her worldly possessions here. It wasn't much… but apparently, news of her ascension had spread quicker than lightning; there was new clothing at her disposal before she even left the bath, along with servants coming into her room with more things she might need. Apparently, this was how some people showed their appreciation – meaning the rich of the city, who were already wishing her well, hoping to form connections, no doubt.

Due to the recent Oblivion crisis and the absence of a ruler in the land, the formal ceremony was brief and took place within two days of her arrival to the Imperial City. As far as most were concerned, it was simply a formalization of status and a confirmation. Finally, it was a chance for her to address the Guild itself as its newly… _elected_ leader.

"Arch-Mage Lemieux." they all echoed when she was presented with a brand new staff to signify her new position.

"This has been a time of duress for us all. The threat of the Necromancers has been greatly lessened, but ultimately, remains as a warning to us all what may happen if students of the art choose to clash in their beliefs. We will not forget those who gave their lives so that we may have peace once more."

She heard herself recite the words she had prepared, no longer watching the image of who she could be – who they now expected her to be – through a stranger's eyes. The two days had given her space to contemplate and rejuvenate. Of course she felt far from ready, but refusing wasn't an option and perhaps – just perhaps – she could turn this to her advantage.

"We will honor their memory through continued dedication to our studies, our work and, by virtue of that, to magic itself. I understand that you may feel uncertain. I am not Hannibal Traven, whose immense sacrifice allows me to stand here, before you, on this day. But he placed his trust in my judgment and left me with the task of guiding you through these distressing times."

All her energy had been invested into forming words that wouldn't be lies, be they about Traven or herself. Sometimes, people deserved better than the truth.

"I promise no miracles, but devotion, dedication and that I shall do everything within my power and beyond to ensure that the Arcane University and all our halls are run in accordance with the principles and wishes of our guild; that my door shall always be open to any student of magic and that, for as long as I am able, I will give you everything I am."

After that solemn promise, it was simply a swirl of clapping and promises and salutations that she acknowledged but rarely returned. She stood there, back straight and hair neatly combed, the image of a regal lady with the golden filigree cascading around her torso in the peacock blue robes. And then, thankfully, she was allowed to retire after attending only part of a banquet held in her honor, fending off questions about the battle and the future of the Guild.

She even waved away the servants that had come to help her with her clothing. Right then, the thing she needed most was peace and quiet. She undid the clasp holding her hair in a twist and shrugged off her robe, replacing it with a simple nightgown and bathrobe. It was her habit to read before sleeping and she intended to do so, if only to soothe her own conscience.

Where Lucien was now, she couldn't begin to guess, but her memory of those she had known and laughed with and cared for was slowly beginning to fade, drowned by something close to pain but too tangible to be just a feeling that would pass.

"Bravo for the inspirational speech."

Lisette was thoroughly fortunate not to have yet started brushing her hair before going to sleep, for she most certainly would have ripped off more than a strand or two. Calm befitted her station more than panic, but then again, even her rather keen senses hadn't detected anyone entering her room. Yet the dark-clad figure adamantly stood there, likely amused at her little start.

It wasn't Lucien, she could tell as much despite the hood cloaking the man's face. For one thing, Lachance was taller and for another, he wouldn't have hesitated to tell her off for being thoroughly stupid and thick-headed for disobeying his orders and requests.

Lisette gripped her book tighter, ready to hurl it and cast if need be. However, as she was uncertain why one of the Black Hand – who were so cautious about revealing their identities – was approaching her, albeit secretly, she latched onto the first solution that presented itself to her. Politeness.

"I wasn't told to expect any visitors… Speaker." She didn't bow or incline her head to the man. A stranger in her rooms deserved no such regard, let alone one she outranked.

She didn't ask how he had found her, or even how he had connected their Cousin with the current Arch-Mage. Again was it being proven to her that gossip was more powerful than whatever magic she would ever possess. Even having concealed her identity through a nickname hadn't saved her, quite clearly.

Though no sound betrayed it, she was right to assume that the assassin was hiding a smile of indulgence. "Is this how you keep your promise of an open-door policy?"

"To our members, not that of the…" Lights from the outside – and there were many, still celebrating, still toasting her in honor – managed to sneak their illumination under the hood of their visitor. He wasn't attempting to hide his identity, though it was slightly painful that she hadn't yet guessed his identity. "Mattieu?"

The Breton flashed her a brilliant smile from underneath his hood, an expression of slightly manic happiness. "Ah, you remember. Wonderful. Otherwise my reason for being chosen for this task would have been redundant."

"I wasn't aware you had become one of the Black Hand." Lisette's tone remained leveled, but she didn't find herself relaxing at the sight of a familiar face. Though she and Bellamont had been friendly, she had apparently missed something that Telaendril and Ocheeva had discussed about the two of them. Now, with him one of the Black Hand, she wasn't certain where they stood, due to her connection to Lucien.

"There have been… openings. Very recent ones." The Arch-Mage remained unflinching, only her eyes burning with barely concealed magic. She was very transparent when it came to emotions, but Bellamont was quite certain that, should she decide against hearing him out, the consequences would be quite swift and explosive. "But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you? Lucien Lachance is a highly private man, after all."

To Lisette's credit, she didn't react at the mention of the name. Thank Akatosh that she knew exactly what he was hinting at, else she might have revealed very confidential information by accident. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Why are you here?"

"To inform you on behalf of our organization that Lucien Lachance has been singled out as the traitor in the Dark Brotherhood and will be put to death once located. Oh, don't worry; your innocence is a proven fact." he added blithely upon misinterpreting the tightness of her outraged expression. "You are under our protection."

"What proof can you possibly have?" Lisette demanded things almost tranquilly when she so wished. But she allowed the venom to surface now and then. "I was the hostage of a mad Necromancer for weeks!"

"Months, almost." Bellamont corrected, "Fortunately for all of us, he was one of our targets. You had eliminated him hours before our agent managed to reach him. Celedaen held a highly extensive journal, which corresponded with the data we had about you. Putting all the facts together wasn't as difficult as you might imagine. Had that not been established, you would most likely have been branded co-conspirator."

This time, a spark of blue fire leapt from her fingertips and ignited the book, which began burning. However, the flames only licked the object, as if reluctant to devour it. Lisette appeared to have been cut from harsh stone, but inwardly, she was seething. They could have saved her…

"You would have concluded that I must have been in on my own capture?" Lisette was seething. How _dare_ they? "I almost _died_ there! And how can you believe that Lucien is the traitor? There isn't any proof of that!"

"Unfortunately, you are wrong." The passion in her denial was quite unlike the somewhat meek girl he remembered, but then again, so was her standing up to someone else's authority… and her defense of Lachance. "As we speak, his Silencer is likely on the way towards another member of the Black Hand… one of the surviving ones, at least. He had been given orders to eliminate them under false pretences."

"That could have been done by any number of-"

"Only the Speaker who planted the Dead Drops knows where they are." Her being so unreasonable was irritating. Even Cousin dear knew how tightly the identities of the Black Hand were guarded; the position of Silencer hadn't even been shown to her, not properly. There was no other way these killings could have been conducted, that much was for certain. "And the Silencer joined the Brotherhood after we were certain of the existence of the traitor."

"If you insist on lying to me, do it properly. You aren't here to protect me; you came to convince me to tell you where Lucien is."

Bellamont nodded. "That is one of the reasons, yes." The main reason the Black Hand had selected him; not the main reason he had chosen to accept.

There was still a chance to save this one he cared for.

"I am certain you can show yourself out, since you showed yourself in so well, Speaker Bellamont." Lisette noted softly, with an unblinking stare that was somewhat vacant. In that moment, though differently attired and flirting with treason against them, she looked more like one of the assassins than she ever had.

"Your loyalty to him is to be commended, but Lachance is no longer a member of the Black Hand." Did she not see? Damn the Black Hand to the deepest pits of Oblivion; damn Lachance for trying to corrupt something as innocent and pure.

"And I am no longer someone you can dispose of through a simple set-up. The Black Hand doesn't have anything to use against me now aside from killing me. And that will not be easy, I promise you."

Something in Bellamont' s chest was clenching. She sounded less like the woman he loved and more than those he despised, but there was still hope. "Your association with the Brotherhood is no trifle according to Cyrodiilic laws… and with your rapid and sudden promotions, the death of your predecessor could very well be revealed to have been an elaborate set-up."

But Lisette was prepared for this attempt to trip her down from her very own high-horse and refused to allow it. Of the others, she might have been scared, but he had known Bellamont before he had become what he was now. She had stood up to Lucien. Threatening another member of the Black Hand seemed like nothing after what she had gone through in the past few days.

"Your calculations would have perhaps worked, if I hadn't slain Mannimarco myself. The Mages Guild needs me now… and it won't renounce a returning hero." Infuriatingly, gently, she smiled, allowing the anger to subside just for a moment. "You have nothing to threaten me with. Nothing."

And she was right.

Bellamont frowned; through some paradox of fate, he found himself being the one backing down from the one whose loyalty he had come to assure his colleagues of. "You aren't being reasonable. To betray the Dark Brotherhood for the sake of-"

"Choose your words with care, Speaker." Lisette spoke quietly, calmly, never once looking away. Perhaps her newfound position had given her confidence and daring, but the power… the power had always been hers. "I am not, nor have I ever been, part of your organization. I cannot 'betray' you."

"You would make enemies of us over one man – who put you in danger to begin with and then abandoned you to face the possible repercussions alone?"

"I should be more afraid of you making enemies of me, Speaker. Remember that you stand in the heart of the Arcane University, in front of its Chancellor, utterly exposed. No doubt you are strong and skilled… but you are surrounded by many who will manage to match that. No, I wouldn't kill you out of spite." she noted when he obviously considered the possibility of fighting her. "But I am no longer a nobody you can intimidate with the mere sight of your robes. I am now one of those who tolerate your existence because I might make enemies in the future and think my hand above the crude solutions you offer."

Finally, it was impossible to continue appealing to her logic alone. It was time for desperation and truth. The robed figure took a step or two towards her. "Cousin- Blanche… I implore you, you are being-"

"Quite clear, Speaker Bellamont." Lisette interrupted, not seeing the feverish need for conviction in his words. "If I am to be honest with you, I have no idea where Lucien is. I would advise you to spend your time better than trying to intimidate me."

Had he taken another step towards her, Lisette was almost certain she would have dealt a preemptive strike purely for safety purposes. Even empowered as she was, the look in the man's face was enough to give her pause. She had never seen Bellamont so agitated or enraged; he had always appeared mild-mannered and passive, certainly not bubbling to the brim with emotion. It was as if she had just betrayed the deepest confidence and done so gleefully.

The silence before he disappeared was enough to give her pause. That which came after assured her that she needed to seek out the man she had thrown her lot with now, openly or not, and see his quest through to the end, as he had done with hers.


	28. Smoke and Mirrors

Here, as promised, is the update. It was supposed to be longer, but the chapter was getting way too long and anticlimactic, so it got split into two. More next week, it seems! About four chapters to go, I guess?

Anyway, please read and review!

**o.O.o**

**Smoke and Mirrors**

**o.O.o**

Applewatch farm was quiet in the last hour before the dawn, but hardly serene.

The lights inside were blazing, though no blazing inferno of spells had yet caused that, even as two figures dismounted a single horse with unnatural haste just as the animal was brought to an abrupt halt. The taller, black-clad figure helped the other descend, though not out of kindness; the other's hands were bound awkwardly behind her back, a gag securing her mouth. The look she cast her captor briefly was a torrent of emotion, a peculiar mix of rage and pleading that looked somewhat pathetically endearing. However, the other gave no sign of caring.

Instead, he half-dragged the woman closer to the house with barely concealed haste, just as the conversation within seemed to be taking a turn for the worse.

"…was loyal!" a voice familiar to both of them was making his final statement, though what facts he had used to try and convince them of this was unknown. Time was running short.

"You can make your confession to the Dread Father once you lie before him!" The woman who spoke was passionate about her ideals, true, but also sounded the slightest bit mad in the more frightening sense of the word.

The robed figure hurried further.

"Treason such as this has only one punishment."

And the door opened hastily to allow him passage just as his brethren were likely to start extracting parts of that punishment, bit by bit. The Speaker dragged the gagged and bound woman in with him, shoving her to the front once they were inside. Not that it was necessary to prevent her escape; she seemed to have given up on that entirely.

Inside was a sight few had witnessed and lived to tell the tale.

Lucien Lachance stood surrounded by three figures dressed alike, their black hoods concealing parts of their faces. The monochrome clothing of the Black Hand, which they all wore… all except the bound woman, who was dressed in brighter, slightly more intricate robes of a mage.

Her eyes widened and she tried to make some sound through the fabric in her mouth, but nothing intelligible came out.

The Dunmer Speaker closest to the door smiled in an almost friendly fashion, which was enough to unnerve even the wisest and bravest. "Ah, Speaker. Arriving just in time for the amusement to begin."

"We were hoping we wouldn't have to wait for you." another man noted, while the woman kept her eyes on their prey, whose hope seemed to be evaporating with each moment, particularly when seeing the pale woman being dragged in this way.

"The Night Mother is smiling upon us this day… even if our little bird did try its best to fly away from me." the new arrival noted, tightening his grip on the mage's forearms. Some part of him was enjoying this game, this finally managing to show his supremacy.

At the sight of the helpless victim brought to the slaughter, so to speak, even the elven woman smiled widely, her teeth more like claws or talons to the uninitiated eye.

"So our fair Cousin deigns us worthy of joining." she almost cooed, cupping the Breton's chin in a moment of amusement. "How wonderful. We are what is left of the Black Hand, Cousin dear. Worry not." she smiled, her voice not at all assuring. The other woman's eyes remained wide and panicky. "You are about to witness the last of purifications."

They had him cornered now, entirely, Lachance realized. He could try to flee, but they would kill Blanche for that and then chase him once more. Only the Night Mother or the Dread Father could make some sort of miracle for them both now and save them, but the assassin understood that they wouldn't both be leaving with their lives tonight. Nevertheless, he could still bargain for hers, and would, if given the chance.

"Blanche has nothing to do with this." The trick was to sound neither interested nor concerned, only firm and certain that nothing would be gained from her death.

Arquen, the angry one, the one out for vengeance, the one who took action before thinking, sneered at him. "So, on one hand you would press your innocence and on the other stand behind hers! So you know better than all of us to who the clues lead, do you?"

"Calm, Arquen." Banus Alor brought the voice of calm, which was all the more frightening, as Lachance knew well that a cold killer is more dangerous than a rabid one. "He simply has nowhere else to run. Do not fear for your little doll, Lachance." His eyes glittered with what he considered righteous vengeance, but what could just as easily be considered bloodlust. "She is here only to ensure your… compliance with our procedure."

"You think I would risk falling into a trap for the sake of one hostage when I was forced to watch so many die? I will not be trapped thusly." It was a gambit and a lie, but Lachance was relatively certain that they wouldn't dispose of a valuable resource without reason.

Mattieu Bellamont, still holding Blanche bound – how had he managed that, Lucien wondered… or, better yet, how could he be punished for whatever injury he had brought her – gave a brief chuckle. "How fortunate for us all." The Breton lowered his face to Blanche's shoulder, so that his voice would reach her ear all the easier. "Now you see with your own eyes the truth you tried to deny, Cousin. He is the traitor, he cares nothing for the Brotherhood or its relations."

Blanche twitched violently, but otherwise made no move. For that small mercy, Lachance was grateful.

"That isn't true. My loyalty to the Dark Brotherhood is-"

"Silence." Arquen countered, drawing her dagger. "Blood for that which was spilt is the only loyalty we need."

There would be blood spilt now, it was inevitable; and if he fought back, if he slew one or all of them – and Lachance knew that he could, with his superior strength and years of training – he would only be confirming his own guilt, slaying kin and blackening his name in the eyes of Sithis.

That must not be, even if his life was the price he had to pay for securing his innocence in front of the Dread Father. He wouldn't fight, if there was no way to win and live.

But as the High Elf prepared to lunge at him, something happened which one of them could have anticipated. There was the sound of an impact of flesh upon flesh and Arquen was sent tumbling into the wall, limbs akimbo, her weight thrown against the furniture by the force of another body in robes.

At first, it was confusion that clouded all of their minds, but by then, the spell of concealment had begun to fade and fall, unnecessary now. Two spells were fired in rapid succession, the incantations left silent, and the other two who would move to kill him were sent into the walls as well.

"Wha-?"

"Ungh!"

"You-!"

"What is the meaning of this?" Arquen's voice resembled the screech of an owl that had narrowly avoided a rock thrown at it mid-slumber.

The enchantment had fallen completely, and suddenly Blanche was Bellamont and Bellamont was Blanche… the mage stood alone, arms raised still, clad in the black robes of a Speaker, while Bellamont remained bound and dressed as an enchanter. It was a long story she wouldn't have time to recount to Lachance that night, how Bellamont had come to threaten her, how he had returned when she had tried to slip away under the cover of darkness, how he had caught her from behind and knocked her out with a powder poison on a handkerchief clasped over her nose and mouth… and how the poison had worn off before he had thought it would and allowed her to be the one to outwit him.

She had switched their clothing and changed their forms once she managed to extract the location of their target from his temporarily sleeping mind. Posing as him had not been as difficult as one might imagine… at least, not for the few moments she needed to buy them both. Lachance was at her side now, the disguises dropped, and if Arquen hadn't managed to get out from under the weight of her decoy and block their escape, they would have been out of the door already.

"Blanche…"

The murmur of her name stirred something in her; a warmth, perhaps, though she wouldn't be able to identify it as such. He was alive, next to her; living, breathing, not alone. She had managed to make it in time. Instead of answering one of the many unanswered questions he might have or glancing at him to ensure that she wasn't simply imagining her timely arrival, that he was really there, Lisette sighed briefly and kept her gaze fixed on their opposition.

"One day you'll have to tell me how you manage to keep this heavy thing from falling into your face." she said, flipping the hood of her robe back to reveal her pale hair. The robes hung on her like an ill-fitting costume, but she managed to move well enough somehow.

"Isn't this the happy reunion?" Arquen hissed, a purplish bruise starting to appear on the side of her face that had hit the bedpost. "Two traitors instead of one! More amusement for us, then."

"Blanche, stand down. Passing judgment on traitors is well outside your involvement with the Dark Brotherhood."

The mage shook her head at Alor, hands still raised and ready to cast, should she need to. "Thank you, but I'll pass, Speaker. I don't think your colleague over there would let me off quite as easily no matter what I do now. And I really hope you have some kind of plan now, Lucien."

"My Silencer is to return here with proof of my innocence. As I tried to explain, my dead drops had been switched – I have no reason to have wished for the deaths of my brothers and sisters!"

"Your reason is not what interests us." Alor interrupted Lachance, though his eyes continued to bore into Lisette, evaluating and judging all the time. "You know our rules; everything points to you. Do you really expect us to sit here and wait for what could very well be the last phase of your plan?"

"In case you have forgotten, my entire Sanctuary had to be wiped out to prove your point." The Imperial was losing his patience with their pigheadedness and blind rage, though he knew no other way to stall them now.

"To grant you an alibi… which you quickly destroyed."

"You have no proof!" Blanche spoke with a conviction to match theirs. When had she come to be his strongest – and only – supporter, Lachance could only wonder.

"Several of our best members dead are proof enough in my opinion."

"Proof of a traitor, not proof that either of us is guilty!"

"If you are so quick to deliver punishment, the Silencer is the one who most deserves to hand it out." Lachance noted calmly, still not drawing his weapon. If they could only get more time… unfortunately, they gained yet further opposition when Arius untied Bellamont, who was quick to cast the full blame on him.

"How quick you are to twist and alter. I told you it was a mistake to leave Blanche in his care!" he turned to the others, briefly glancing at the girl that had bested him with some strange fury. "He's brought to heel like a dog!"

Blanche didn't flinch, but such words angered Lachance, especially considering the fact that he no longer intended to do such a thing. "The only beast needing to be put down is the viper we've had in our midst for too long!"

"Enough! We have stalled long enough. Sithis wants revenge for the blood of our brothers!" Arquen proclaimed, raising her weapon once again.

While the door remained blocked, there was one mistake the Black Hand made – that is, allow them to speak long enough for Lachance to be able to maneuver Blanche near the window. It was almost as if they had coordinated this in their minds; she cast the summoning spell for a Storm Atronach a second before the Speaker grabbed her by her waist firmly and, with incredible force considering their combined weight, flung them both through the glass.

This would have brought them seconds, at best, or simply dozens of glass cuts, at worst, were it not for the atronach that had begun its destruction of the house and its inhabitants. Though the Black Hand chose to flee the creature rather than waste time fighting it, by then, even Lisette had recovered from the shock of jumping through the window and was shakily mounting the nearest horse. She didn't dare let go of the reigns to fling a fireball and scare the other animals, but then again, she needn't have bothered; an angry Storm Atronach was boogeyman enough for the horses, it seemed.

"You _do_ have some kind of plan, don't you?" she yelled after Lachance, who rode relentlessly on in no particular direction; simply away from the site of the attack.

"I mostly make it up as I go along now! Without evidence, we cannot evade them forever!"

"Why didn't you go with your Silencer?"

"Why aren't _you_ at the Spire?"

Lisette gasped as the idea behind the accusation hit her. "That's it! The Spire!" she shouted, "We have to get to the Spire's teleportation room and reach your Silencer!"

"He could be anywhere between Anvil and Bruma, Blanche!" Lachance noted as he began turning his horse to follow hers.

"You'll just have to trust me on this one!"

Trust her. But then again, she had trusted him. She still trusted him. Naïve and perhaps unjustified, but nevertheless…

**o.O.o**

"This is possibly the most ridiculous stalling maneuver I have ever seen." Lachance commented, but he was amused.

They had made it.

Even revealing the existence of the Spire to the Black Hand was a worthy sacrifice when one took that impossible fact into consideration.

Much more than that, actually… they had managed to teleport from the Spire to Bruma, which was likely the last place the Hand would expect them to go. Putting distance between them wasn't something they wanted now, especially since the Silencer had been told to return to Applewatch with the information required.

"Which is exactly why it seems to be working." Lisette countered.

The hall of the Mages Guild wasn't yet fully rebuilt and mostly vacant, but so far, the lower level was turning out to be a wonderful place to teleport into in case of need. They had found clothing suitable for both of them; robes of varying sizes, to be exact.

It wasn't as if one could stroll around in the robes of the Black Hand in broad daylight and not expect at least a little attention.

"For now." Lachance was highly impressed, though he didn't show it. though there were other problems they would have to face, and soon. "They will not take too long to figure out that we intend to return to Applewatch."

"Maybe. But this time, we will be prepared."

"Without money or transportation, we will be slow."

The smile she gave was almost comforting, for all the grim determination it showed. "No, we won't." she said as the robes she had chosen melted into a peacock blue color when she touched them with a hint of magic, the golden filigree of the Arch Mage spinning on the fabric like a thread of honey.

There were surprises on every turn of this road, Lachance was discovering, but knew that this wasn't the time for questions and answers. However, it was the time for ideas, and he, too, had just gained one upon seeing the robes that signified not only influence but power as well.

"Blanche… that charm you used to switch places with Bellamont…"

"Yes?"

"How long could you sustain it?"

**o.O.o**

Melanthios Cadmion, Silencer to Lucien Lachance, champion of the Imperial Arena through the submission of his opponent in a battle that could never be considered just – for what fight against a man dead in his mind and soul could be? – surveyed the situation in front of him with rather empty eyes.

Two figures, sprawled on the ground. One, dead, the other, wounded, but healed as well. Four figures, clad in black, congratulating him on a job well done.

"My child, I knew you would come through for us and understand that you too were being betrayed." The woman, Arquen, was saying, joyfully proud.

Cadmion was hardly a sentimental man, but he was fortunate enough to recognize a waste when he saw it. Killing the Breton girl would most definitely have been a waste.

She wasn't a remarkable beauty; her skin was a bit on the pale side, there were traces of circles under her eyes and her oval face was a little too symmetrical. But he remembered the large blue eyes even now when they were closed and his eyes lingered on her only perfectly proportioned feature; her lips, seeing them in a mind's eye when she spoke and laid out the situation to him. It was intelligence that rendered her plain features intriguing to the eye, which her unconscious form didn't display so prominently.

And even now, seeing the innocence push away the harshness of intelligence, he could hardly believe that this woman, barely more than a child, was an ally of the assassins. Hells, it was less believable still that she was Arch-Mage of the Mages Guild, something that the common opinion associated with bearded and cloaked old men whose youth had long since withered away, not a girl not yet even in her prime…

His train of thought was prevented from becoming a leer – because he could freely admit a less than platonic interest in a woman such as this, commanding at first yet innocent the next moment – by the sound of his superiors talking amongst themselves. Their attention was mostly focused on the second – dead – body.

Lucien Lachance.

Two perfectly aimed arrows to the back, shot straight through the lungs and heart. Never had a chance at survival.

Of course, one would think that it was a more than suitable punishment for the puddle of blood that was being soaked up by the unconscious mage's robes and the knife wound they hid, which had long since been healed – or so it was to seem to everyone who knew no better.

"I didn't do this. They… I thought the woman was being attacked and fired on instinct…" But the magic was so convincing that no further explanations were needed, not from him.

The Black Hand was pleased, believing that the traitor had been eradicated. As for the traitor, if he or she was truly among those cruel faces, they had cause to smile as well. Cadmion himself felt nothing but contempt for the creature (it wasn't human or elven in his mind, merely a twisted thing) when he remembered the rotting skull and the crazed dog… and the diary, the dreadful mass of red ink scribbling words of hatred in a feverish scrawl.

Yet that was hardly the most horrid of writing. There were words of love there, a twisted, mad obsession that had been triggered by oblivious kindness… by the woman lying at his feet, unconscious. She was part of them and yet not, remained pure in the eyes of the insane avenger and had become an angelic figure in his mind due to her kindness and apparent imprisonment by the Brotherhood. She knew none of these things, nor did she have any idea of the obviously professionally made portrait of her that hung in a black frame on a wall of that horrible cellar.

Cadmion had torn it down and taken it before setting fire to the place, because if there was anything he couldn't bear destroy, it was beauty. But it was also evidence, along with the crimson pages, which he intended to present to the Black Hand once the deed was done and the traitor dead.

One last time, he glanced at the unconscious Breton and proceeded to pick her up to carry her to Shadowmere. The steed recognized his cargo, apparently, because she gave an approving whinny upon smelling her. Shadowmere barely approved of him, so whatever it took to help him with the stubborn and prideful horse was quite all right with Cadmion. However, he couldn't understand why Lachance, one of the most efficient and dangerous… no, _the_ most efficient and dangerous man he knew had come by such a remarkable and unlikely ally.

"It seems that your – and our – luck… is turning." Alor was saying as the Black Hand began their journey.

"´Tis a shame… I would have gladly avenged our brethren before allowing him to pass to the Dread Father." Arquen punctuated her point with a kick to the helpless corpse, but didn't proceed past that. She had longed to feast on his entrails, but a cold mean was so unsatisfying.

He was not worth that effort.

"What's done is done." Arius sighed, checking Blanche once more. She would survive. "And it seems our naïve little fool will make it through as well."

"Should she be punished?"

"No more than one who followed orders without question." Alor suggested, glancing at Cadmion. "The full state of affairs is irrelevant to us in any case. We should make haste and proceed to Bravil, so that a new Listener might be elected. The Brotherhood cannot survive long without one."

The newly promoted Speaker held the sleeping figure in his arms tightly, securely, as the journey began. He knew well from the glance he had received before their parting that should anything happen to the Arch Mage while she slept – or after – it would be entirely on his head. Whether that head remained attached to his body or not depended on that, clearly.

The weight of a woman against him was comforting, but not arousing due to her lack of consciousness at the moment… and the feel that wherever they passed, the dark eyes of Lachance would follow them without question.

**o.O.o**

When Lisette awoke, it was night again.

Her injury had been faked and the blood not at all hers, but the unconsciousness couldn't have been an act; assassins could tell that apart, for they often themselves depended on acts. The city around her was dingy and unwelcoming, but it took her but a few moments to recognize their location as Bravil. They were in the square before the statue of the Lucky Old Lady, which she had asked an elven enchanter about what seemed lifetimes ago.

Her hands were bound, but there was nothing blocking her mouth. It would have been suspicious, she knew. But the dagger pressing against her back, be it an act or simply the truth, was very real. She would be dead before she could cast. The arms supporting her were unfamiliar, but the scent wasn't. It was Cadmion, she could tell, due to the smell of steel and dried blood. His mace wasn't a sight she was soon going to forget.

They had managed to meet Lachance's Silencer purely due to luck. They had remained in the vicinity of Applewatch, not entering but keeping guard within sight. And, soon enough, they were rewarded for their patience. A well-deserved reward, truly; Lisette had lost the euphoria from rescuing Lachance, along with the shock of Mattieu's ambush, during those past hours.

She would never have imagined that Bellamont would dare try something like that to her. She wasn't completely dense; she understood that the newly-fledged Speaker liked her, even if her mind couldn't process beyond that fact - to her, he was a friend. And yet he had been so angry, angry enough to try and capture her and... then what? She didn't even dare go there in her mind. Did he intend to torture the information out of her? Did he hope that she'd surrender to pleas of friendship?

It didn't matter much, she supposed. She had outsmarted him; he had never seen her combat magic in action and Goldbrand was a surprise no one could have anticipated. The appearance-altering spells were something she had been practicing since her initial encounter with the assassins in Skingrad. Which is to say, it took a lot out of her, but she was an expert at this point.

As for Cadmion, he was an Imperial, if barely - with burly shoulders and an almost nondescript roughly carved face, he could have passed for a Nord with ease. The only eye-catching detail were his bright green eyes, which even Lisette noticed observing her appearance from top to bottom, and not in the surgic way of an assassin trying to figure out what her weakest spot was.

Apparently, wonder of wonders, he knew who she was without Lachance having to introduce them. Lucien must have mentioned her previously - she would have never imagined he would get personal enough for such admissions with any underling. Still, she was still a bit shaken and reluctant to put her faith in anyone of the Dark Brotherhood who wasn't Lucien at this point, even if the plan was good. She hadn't trusted the man entirely at first, despite Lachance's assurance of his loyalties, but there had been no choice.

And, given the choice, he certainly was the preferred support for her weight from among the Speakers she could see.

Arquen approached, seeing her stir, a torch in hand. For a fleeting moment, Lisette twitched, which brought the Altmer some measure of satisfaction.

"Ah, you are awake at last. You should feel privileged now, Cousin." Arquen smiled like a cat chewing on a canary to rattle the rest of the birds. It was working. "You will get to witness what very few have ever seen in their lives… the crypt of the Night Mother herself. It would be fair to simply leave her outside…" she added to Cadmion. "But I don't trust her not to run away on us again. Hold her tightly, Brother."

"I shall." Cadmion's voice rumbled, but the grip on her arms remained steady yet relatively gentle. "Come." he whispered to her, nudging her lightly.

The ritual wasn't as complex as she might have hoped; all it required was the five Speakers together in a correct position. The Night Mother was hidden in plain sight… she _was_ the Lucky Old Lady, though the name of the statue now seemed a little ironic. Whose luck did she bear and to whom might she bestow it? what worth did her blessing have… and was it truly a blessing?

There were countless questions that had to remain unanswered and Lisette would have given her left foot for the chance to witness this most secret ritual of ancient magic in another lifetime. Now, however, she merely watched as Arquen beseeched the Night Mother to allow them passage. The statue twisted in a silent scream, revealing a secret entrance that no magic could have revealed without the proper words.

One by one, the black-clad figures entered, until at last, it was time for them to descend the twisted stone staircase.

Lisette didn't know what she was expecting there… perhaps a shrine, a temple, or some such thing. But it was that and more… it was a crypt.

The place where it had all began, where nightshade grew in the darkness, an unholy offering. The skeletons of five children were visible in the shadowy corners… perhaps the first of the Black Hand. but then again, who knew? Who could tell what had transpired here, in the ancient tomb that must have been sealed for years, if not centuries?

But what was the Night Mother then? Stories said that she was simply the leader of the Brotherhood… yet that made no sense, because, as Lucien had explained to her, the de facto leader of the Black Hand was the Listener. Yet the Night Mother wasn't a goddess or a Daedra; those were designations better left to Sithis, the Dread Father, the Void.

Mages of all kinds would have given all their limbs to have a chance to study this place. Yet Lisette wasn't entering it with anticipation and excitement, but with dread and fear.

It was likely that it would be a tomb to them all.


	29. Cinders

To make this chapter suitably epic, I had to take more time than before, considering the fact that this is the climax, or at least the turning point of the of the fic. After this, there will be mostly wrapping up of the events. About two chapters remaining, I suppose, assuming I remain on schedule. College has become rather time-consuming now.

Anyway, please read and review, it helps a lot with inspiration!

**o.O.o**

**Cinders**

**o.O.o**

The birthplace of the Dark Brotherhood was at the bottom of a particularly narrow and rickety staircase, which merely enhanced one's fear of tight spaces and darkness. Lisette felt the grip on her bound arms tighten slightly; apparently, even the former Silencer, who was supposed to be in control of the situation, disliked his surroundings more with each step further underground.

She still knew little about the man yet, aside from what their Lachance had told her of him before he arrived at Applewatch and his responses to their plan. There was something feral about the man, with his angular features and peculiarly green eyes, but she didn't get any kind of bad vibe from him as she usually did from warriors one considered berserkers more than fighters. But the feeling of his gaze upon her did make her distinctly uncomfortable. Lisette wasn't used to male attention, simply because she had never sought it out or wished for it in the way most women did.

The other Speakers went in front of them, with Arquen leading and lighting the way. The crypt they entered eventually was less spacious than one would expect. The only source of light were several torches that lit up sinisterly upon their entrance… and, at first, it seemed that the only things inside were three sarcophagi, in various states of disrepair. But what truly drew the eyes, Lisette discovered, were the skeletons… bones of children, clearly, grouped together, worshipping their dark idol, their mother. For a second, she was so horribly reminded of darkness and what the Brotherhood truly stood for that her body was quite ready to disobey her and attempt to flee from the chamber.

Cadmion's gloved hands tightened slightly around her arms, which woke her from this sudden impulse. At first, she thought it might be because he recognized the rigidness that had taken over, but then it became obvious to her that it was because of his own surprise and light alarm at the sight stranger and more disturbing than even the corpses.

A woman, not yet a crone but of advanced age, of medium height and stature, clad austerely in a dress that might have been fashionable dozens of years – if not centuries – ago. as far as one could tell, she was a Dunmer, as her hair was lighter than her skin, but it was questionable, as she was surrounded by the luminescent glow of a ghost.

But despite her translucent state, her eyes were sharp, dark and cold, drilling into the hearts of all who had the courage to look into them. In anger, especially, they were chilling, and Lisette felt it for a moment as well, though the creature's eyes swept them all only briefly and rested nowhere.

This entity, more substantial than any ghost and yet more surreal than a wraith, was without a doubt the one they had come to seek out. Lisette didn't know what she had been expecting, what her own inner image of the Night Mother might be, but she was as frozen in place as any other would be in the presence of such a creature.

"What is the meaning of this desecration?" the specter demanded. Her voice was like a waterfall of ice, piercing the hearts of all who heard it with an undeniable shiver. It echoed through the chamber, as if coming from a great distance, yet too close for comfort nonetheless. "Who dares trespass upon my slumber?"

Arquen, who had apparently assumed the role of their leader for the time being, seemed to be on the verge of throwing herself to her knees in reverence. The sight of the spirit seemed to be feeding the fire of zeal in her heart, which gave her words, theatric as they might have seemed otherwise, an unquestionable sincerity.

"Dearest Night Mother, most unholy matron, we of the Black Hand beseech you, come to our aid!" She bowed low, breaking her recitation. It was as if she was expecting the Night Mother to already know everything that had transpired without any sort of explanation. "Appoint one of us Listener, so that we may restore order in the Brotherhood."

"Order?" Something between a sneer and a scoff marred the spirit's harsh features. "The heart of the Brotherhood festers still. There can be no order before the treason is weeded out and cast away!"

"The traitor is dead, Mother!" Arquen proclaimed, without pomp but certainly with a drop of pride hidden in her subservient tone. "The festering plague ended with Lucien Lachance, traitor of our Family-"

"Fool girl!" the Night Mother hissed, seeing more than all of them, plots within plots. "The traitor still lives… among you…"

Cadmion and Lisette, who both knew this, braced themselves for a revelation that would ensure the evidence in their favor that they now needed most severely. They were so focused on the specter that they almost didn't notice the gasp somewhere to their right. In fact, they took actual note of it only when the second sharp outlet of air came and, with it, the certainly more audible noise of a body slumping to the ground.

Now that was a sound both of them had become greatly familiar with over the passing weeks. The sound of a knife being removed from its sheath, too, wasn't alien to them.

The Night Mother's eyes were already fixed on her prodigal child, who had already discarded the body of his second victim, prying his knife out of its dying sheath.

The fastest of them was apparently Arquen, who spun around just in time to avoid the third slash of the knife. If her surprise was anything to go by, she honestly hadn't been expecting to be attacked in the crypt, least of all by the man who apparently even the physically weakest of their little group had been able to subdue.

"_You_ are the traitor?" the High Elf screamed, drawing her own short sword as quickly as she could. It was swift enough to parry the next blow of the dagger. But it wasn't sufficient against the well-aimed punch which made impact with her right eye and sent her crashing against the nearest sarcophagus.

Cadmion, on the other hand, wasted no time with proclaiming the obvious. He let go of Lisette and stepped in front of her just as Bellamont turned away from the now doubtless incapacitated elf and proceeded to launch his attack upon the remaining Speaker.

For her part, Lisette staggered back and struggled to unsheathe at least part of Goldbrand, so that she could cut through the bonds around her wrists without being forced to resort to a fire spell that could injure her as well.

She made slower progress than she might have hoped, as it was difficult to manipulate the blade without being able to grip it firmly.

The sounds of battle reached her ears, but she tried to pay them no heed, frantic as she was about freeing her hands. Cadmion wasn't wasting time with questions for explanations or pointless outlets of anger, simply aimed his mace for the arm of his opponent, which he intended to break to get rid of the offending pointed metal object it was wielding.

They did, after all, wish to question the culprit after he had been defeated.

However, fury and desperation was enough to cross over even their difference in strength and the clashes of weaponry reached even Lisette, especially when the stabbing noise returned, along with the sound of pain.

"Feel the pain… the pain you and your kind brought me…"

The words were a mere hiss, something that would have been almost imperceptible if the chamber wasn't almost entirely silent then.

"You are worthless!" Another groan and a slumping sound.

If only the bonds would give away…

They didn't, at least not immediately. Certainly not before it was too late to somehow avoid the free gloved hand from closing around her throat with a force that was more than sufficient to hold her in place, but strangely stopped short of crushing her windpipe. However, it was quite sufficient to make her look up, which was bad enough in this case.

She lost her grip on Goldbrand, which slid back into its sheath with an audible clank. There was no way for her to reach into her robes for the Blade of Woe, which was tucked away too well for her to use it. but even if she could reach it, the terrible fire in Bellamont's eyes was more than enough to break that train of thought.

His expression was that of a man possessed, with a zeal that was giving him energy beyond that which his physical strength should allow. Yet there was something behind them, something that was apparently meant for her alone. Behind the hatred and desperation, something frightened her even more.

"But you, dear Cousin…" It was embodied in the motion which delicately caressed her hair. It felt like a spider's legs crawling on her. "You are precious in every sense of the word…"

"Don't do this, Mattieu." How she even managed to speak, she had no idea, but even as she couldn't look away, she was horrified by what she was seeing, what she was expecting to see. "You are different than that."

"Am I?" His features twisted grotesquely, rather like a mask. "You never cared to _know_ me! I helped you, supported you, _consoled_ you and yet you always had eyes only for Lachance!" The name was the worst part of the snarl, punctuated with an increase in pressure that made Lisette gag. "The centerpoint of all your actions; the man you defended at the cost of everything!"

The air was being cut off from her body and, with each moment, it was getting harder and harder to think, let alone speak.

"That isn't true…!"

Lucien had never been the reason for her actions being what they were, though he had been an influence at all times. But how could one reason with a person who only saw one point of view, who knew her only from a handful of encounters in an environment that always contained the man he was fixated upon as his nemesis?

"I…"

"You didn't even see that you're no more than a chess piece to him…"

"N-no…" The light faded for a moment in front of her eyes. Her cold hands reached once again for Goldbrand and attempted to resume the cutting motion, especially as she wasn't strong enough now to break the rope around her wrists yet.

"…while I loved you, you, _you_, always you… because you were never one of them, always refused, always remained distanced, pure…"

Even now, especially now, the first time she was within reach and he could freely touch her – for the first and possibly last time. His sadness at this began to show… in the end, it was all Lachance's fault for creating a situation in which predominant guardianship over the Brotherhood's ward was in his hands only.

He kissed her paling lips, as if hoping to restore the life he was taking... but there was no response to his affection, not the kind he would have wanted, at least. The eyes looking back into his held merely terror, not love.

"You hate me now, for killing your love…" he almost sobbed, loathing his own hands and yet worshipping them for being able to touch something so sacrosanct. "You will suffer for destroying mine…"

Lisette attempted to raise her hands to at least attempt to push him away, but his grip was tightening with each moment, as if he actually wanted to end things as quickly as possible instead of prolonging this for his own agony. A selfish sentiment.

But equally selfish – yet much more effective – was using someone was bait to give a betrayer the sense that his plan had succeeded quite well. All that was necessary now was a signal for the masquerade to be broken, which, in Lucien Lachance's opinion, was right now.

The corpse that the Black Hand had seen next to Lisette had only been a transfigured substitute, which had allowed the denounced Speaker to follow at a relatively close distance even after the small group on their way to Bravil. Without Shadowmere, his speed had been greatly reduced, but his years as an expert on tracking served him well in this, the greatest trial of them all, perhaps.

Saving Alor and Arius had been impossible, as he needed to have the traitor indisputably identified before he could strike. The short and violent combat had also been not enough for an effective move… but the moment both Arquen and Cadmion were momentarily out of commission, meaning that no one would spot him before it was too late…

The moment Bellamont squeezed Blanche's throat in a move that could have easily broken her neck, Lachance knew better than to hesitate. With the traitor's back to him, the only person who could see him was Blanche, and her eyes seemed to be losing focus with each passing instant.

He would not, under any circumstances, allow this one last creature who was relying on his aid in this world, to die.

Fortunately for Blanche, he had neither bound hands nor a problem with drawing and using his own blade.

"I always find the ramblings of the cornered diverting."

Before Bellamont could recognize the fact that the voice of his nemesis wasn't coming from his own broken mind, there was the harsh sound of a blade sliding into flesh… and then, a stream of blood, overflowing, taking life with it.

Lisette, who, by this point, only heard – and even then, the sound appeared muted to her somewhat – recognized the voice quicker, but was unable to even speak the name.

In the meantime, Lachance, to make certain she survived, sliced off the arm clinging onto Blanche's throat straight at the elbow, producing a strangled cry, a wail, from the man who collapsed backwards due to his own weight.

"You…! But… how…?"

Lachance swiftly moved to pry off the fingers from around Blanche's throat and quickly discarded the detached appendage from its place. The girl gasped for air and fell forward, almost weightless, into the assassin's grasp.

She was breathing heavily, her throat bearing reddish marks that were unlikely to disappear just yet, her hair was loose and her robes rather dusty, but other than that, she appeared relatively fine.

"There is one thing you fail to understand about dearest Blanche, Bellamont… she doesn't think like one of us."

The time was ticking away, along with the blood flowing from the wound. In a few moments, the traitor will have been dead. The two other Speakers, though injured, would be all right.

But Blanche, who had saved his life, would surely not appreciate the emotional trauma of seeing the traitor suffer in the way he deserved for all these transgressions. The blood spilled was more than what she was likely used to and, despite now being safe, would not be appreciated, judging by the way her shaking hands grabbed two fistfuls of his sleeves and dug her face into his shoulder as if there was still a need to hide, as if her life depended on it.

Somewhere deep down, Lisette realized that she was supposed to cry, but couldn't summon up the will to feed the impulse. Dry sobs seemed a waste of energy and the tears just wouldn't come – not that she tried to produce them. her mind seemed to have gone blank on its own accord and she had no desire to change that, seeing as it would force her to remember the horror of a mere few minutes ago.

The last time she had thought she would die was during the fight against with Mannimarco, the first time her soul had been filled with desperation had been the Tournament of Ten bloods, but in neither case had her would-be killer come so close, both to her physically and close to killing her.

Fear of death could only truly be experienced when death itself was staring you in the eyes…

"Shh… it is over now." Lachance murmured from somewhere above her head, allowing her to seek whatever comfort she could gain from one such as him.

The girl made no move to wrap her arms around him, which could perhaps have made him think slightly less of her despite himself, but simply gripped the fabric of his sleeves to hold him in place as she clung to him, her head bowed into his robes. Her breathing was somewhat ragged, but otherwise, she was all but silent, motionless aside from the slightest shiver that passed through her.

The assassin allowed this both because she would likely do something rash and inappropriate in order to prevent herself from breaking down and because, strangely, it was somehow soothing to him as well. to know that he had managed to rescue one of his own was exhilarating and the slightest bit liberating, because he felt that it partly absolved him from not being able to save his subordinates from this plot.

It was reassuring to feel the mass of a living, breathing body against his, knowing that she was alive now because of him. Her hair, wild and unbound now, softened the contact of the crown of her head against his chin. The scent remained the same as well, barely perceptible yet unmistakable, the scent of youth and life.

In a kill, that was something worth taking. But in her, these were elements worth protecting.

But the Night Mother, ever-watchful, ignored the two other survivors, Arquen with her twisted arm and split lip and Cadmion, with an ugly bruise beginning to show on his face along with several other injuries. The spirit stepped over the bodies of the fallen without any consideration for them, approaching only them with the intention to speak.

"Not yet, my child." she said, her voice softer than when she had been barking out indignant orders, but still nothing that would bring one comfort. "Not yet."

"Forgive me, Mother." Lachance began, unable to bow as Blanche clung to him quite strongly still. "I had-"

"Forgotten, yes." the Night Mother nodded, acknowledging this as a natural course of action in one being hunted. "I understand, my son, more than you might think. You have done well, like a true assassin should. Your loyalty to me and our Dread Father is undisputed." This was high praise coming from the harsh mistress and Lachance acknowledged it with sincere gratitude. "You have removed the festering disease from the heart of the Dark Brotherhood… for that, you richly deserve my favor. But step aside now, child, and show me this creature you cling to, that I may see her for myself."

It might have been more appropriate to say that she was clinging to him, Lachance would say if he were speaking to anyone less than the Night Mother herself. But now, in this situation most of all, he was hardly in a position or mood to talk back to his superior.

As it seemed that Blanche had calmed down somewhat – though it was hard to tell, seeing as little had changed in her manner – Lachance slid his hand gently under her chin and raised her head a little to make certain she was listening to the request (which she seemed to be, if the current width of her eyes was anything to go by) and disentangled himself from her wavering grip.

Lisette, understanding that she was being made to do this alone, for some reason, faced the Night Mother, still half-believing that this might be just a dream.

"So." In a single syllable, Lisette felt as if her entire being was under a magnifying glass, observed and studied like a bug or bacteria. "This is the fledgling that has captivated many of my children so. Such a dainty little thing at first, you seemed. Now you are on the path to reach your potential."

The Night Mother spoke almost candidly, if it was possible for a creature such as her. And while Lisette didn't think she would ever be able to get used to the razor-like gaze focused on her alone at this instant, she had enough courage and wit to regain her voice and understand what the words said to her entailed.

"You know me?" To have a spirit as powerful as this one take notice of her was both flattering and worrying.

The chuckle that escaped the all but translucent lips of the woman was more an expression of joy at seeing predictability confirmed than anything else. "I see and hear all that occurs in Tamriel when it concerns my interests. And you, little thing… no, not so little any longer, I imagine." Her smile as she mused was predatory, bordering on a leer, which certainly didn't endear her to the mage. "You, pretty thing, have been within my sight for a long time now. There are those who kill because they are driven to it, those who kill because they know nothing else and those that kill because it is their choice. There are few things sweeter than watching one of the third kind learn their place in this world."

Such relish in those words, as if she had Lisette completely figured out. but there was more to life than simply the taking of it, which was something the mage firmly believed in.

"I may have killed… but I am not defined by it." Each of those killings – some that had come easily, some that had been a chore to complete – had its own price, a toll someone like her couldn't avoid.

The Night Mother saw only part of that.

"How like an innocent you oversimplify. Death always affects those that remain living more than those that are killed." Which was why so many who tried to bring it upon others and succeeded at their endeavor were irreparably broken, often by their own conscience. "All it took was several well-timed nudges… and even you took up a blade." Her eyes, dark and cold and merciless, glittered with what in any other creature would readily be considered glee. "Who knows what a few more might bring?"

Lachance, listening to all this very carefully, allowed himself to study Blanche for a moment. He himself had not known of the extent of the Night Mother's interest in his ward, so to speak, but it made him just the slightest bit uneasy. Of course, he had always wished to eventually include the mage among their Family properly, but assumed that it would be a lengthy process. He was forced to wonder, then, if this pushing Blanche to the limit of what her psyche could take in one night was the right course of action, after the horror of Bellamont and what she had been forced to endure to – he could admit as much – rescue him.

"You allowed this merely to break me?" Blanche, however, wasn't covering as would have been expected. Her face was blank and almost stony, for once showing nothing of whatever turmoil she might feel inside.

"You are interesting, pretty thing… but don't overestimate your worth." the Night Mother noted, her mirth vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. "What happened tonight and in times past was due to the incompetence of my Black Hand… something I refused to reward. They met their end due to Ungolim's weakness. His inability to acknowledge the rot when it first appeared. Oh yes," she added, when the color began to drain from her audience's faces. "I knew of Mattieu Bellamont since the start. I knew his thoughts, his desire for revenge. But I refused to reward incompetence. Ungolim was weak." she spat. "He and the Black Hand were unable to purge the virus even when the symptoms of an illness surfaced. And now, here we are, at the beginning of a new era. The Black Hand must be restored… and so it shall be."

She ignored the two fallen Speakers with such nonchalance that even the cold of heart would find chilly, but had the courtesy to spare Arquen a glance when the High Elf stepped forth.

"Oh, unholy matron, we will serve you!" Contrary to Lisette, Arquen quite obviously feared the specter as much as she revered her. there was something almost enthusiastic about the way she covered and yet shone. "Appoint one of us Listener so that we may regrow that which was lost!"

"Patience, little elf." It was an assurance, but not of her satisfaction with the situation. "That is what you lack and what my loyal servants almost paid with their lives because of." The elf flinched, but appeared at a loss of words for the moment. The Night Mother paid her no further attention, turning her attention to another. "Lucien, my child." Lachance stepped forth, and Cadmion, forgotten for the time being, saw that this movement was meant to shield Blanche, or at least put an obstacle between her and the Night Mother to stop foolishness from occurring. "I hope the little escapade hasn't weakened your devotion to our Dread Father."

"Quite the reverse, Mother. Without that strength and guidance, I might have failed."

"You need not sugar-coat your words on my account." the Night Mother said, her lips twisted in a wry smirk with just a touch of self-irony. "I know all too well how close to death's door you have come in these past days… your will to persevere has not gone unnoticed.

The Speaker bowed his head deeply, a simple, fluid motion that actually conveyed more meaning than the exaggerated motions of Arquen.

"Here is a diary the traitor kept, should there be any need to uncover his motives and reasons." Cadmion had dared step forth and speak up, handing the slim volume to Lachance, whom he still considered his superior. The Imperial took the book after just a second of hesitation, part curious, part repulsed and filled with the now-cooling hatred towards its author.

The Night Mother said nothing, simply watched, which Lachance decided to consider as approval of this.

"Thank you, Brother." he said, storing the diary in his robes. "As the matter concerns me more than most of the rest of us, I feel I should read it before handing it to our new Listener."

"Ah yes," the Night Mother spoke up. "That is the matter towards which all others are headed, the crux of things. "You will need another… but that can be arranged from among the others that prove worthy." Her eyes swept the chamber and rested, for a brief moment, on each of the four survivors. Arquen and Cadmion were in different stages of anticipation, but Lachance saw that the Night Mother already had her choice made and wouldn't change it for anything.

Only Lisette noticed the very peculiar wording the specter used, but had no opportunity to make sense of it before the creature stepped in front of her, not allowing her even the opportunity to look away.

"I would have preferred to wait a little longer, but the Hand needs its thumb most of all." the Night Mother mused, circling Lisette like one would a statue; from every angle, observing the strengths and weaknesses of the interpretation. "The Brotherhood needs its Listener."

She made no further proclamation… it was unnecessary. Lisette, now resembling a statue more than ever – rigid, her face stony, her eyes empty yet hard – remained motionless while the eyes of the others shot from her to the spirit. It was most unconventional; unprecedented, in fact.

The first to recover was Arquen, who, under any other circumstances would have blamed everything on Lisette and justified it thanks to a feat of vivid imagination.

"Sweet Night Mother-"

Said entity would have none of these objections.

"Quiet, girl. The choice was made long before you could summon the courage to protest against it."

The men weren't saying anything, which is not to say that they weren't surprised by this decision, but that they were dealing with this matter in their own respective ways. Cadmion wasn't in agreement with such a choice, but knew Lisette far too little to be able to offer a valid objection. Lachance, on the other hand, could offer much insight into the matter, but chose not to due to both surprise and uncertainty as to where Blanche herself stood in the matter.

It still remained unclear, as the girl had barely moved an inch. It was questionable if she was even breathing. The Night Mother seemed to find this all highly amusing, if her smile was anything the go by.

"While hearing my words is a requirement, you do have permission to speak when necessary, Listener."

The final word made it all official and permanent. Three syllables were quite enough of a wake-up call.

"I refuse." she said in one breath. She had been holding those words in her for some time now, hearing them echoing in her mind… but, for the first time, she was able to voice them.

"How dare-?"

"Silence, Arquen." The Night Mother apparently wasn't angry or even surprised by this response; in fact, she was expecting it. "Whether or not you acknowledge the ring on your finger, the blade that tasted blood cannot be denied. You can never again be one of them."

The Black Band, still on her finger even after all that had transpired, was more binding than a marriage ring. Lisette had gotten so used to its presence on her hand that she barely even acknowledged it nowadays. The Blade of Woe, though no longer her primary melee weapon in case of need, still remained concealed on her person – the Black Hand, after binding her, hadn't even bothered taking the blades from her after binding her hands.

These were the symbols of the Dark Brotherhood, as sure as anything, as natural to her as breathing.

Lisette acknowledged this with a glance at the former.

"Perhaps not." she admitted. After all, after all the horrible things that had happened to her, she could hardly consider herself similar to those who knew nothing about the act of taking life deliberately. "But I will never be one of you. I will kill for survival. I will hurt others to ensure the survival of my allies. But never will I kill for money… or for sport. Your _pushes_ only served to ensure my conviction in that."

Whether or not most that had transpired was with the influence and support of the Night Mother, with the intention of warping her into something she would never be… in the end, it didn't matter. There had been no choice with Traven, as he had bound her with an ultimatum and the sacrifice on both their parts was, she now realized, a necessary thing.

But though she might have toed the line far too closely… nothing, nothing save for her own choice, could turn her into one of the Dark Brotherhood.

The Night Mother continued smiling without fail.

"I would have been disappointed in my own choice if you didn't put up at least some fight, dear child." she was impressed, though, by the conviction she heard in that voice.

Bretons were one of the races most suited to assassination, due to their own complex family affairs and tendency to think up imaginative ways of improving their standing with their family. But this one, who both exemplified and subverted all the things one usually associated with her kind, was a prize for certain and one the Night Mother had chosen. She lacked only the will to be an assassin.

And the will… the will could be nurtured and guided with enough time.

"I said that more time would have been beneficial. Your slaying Bellamont with your own hands would have helped." That could also have broken her entirely, which was perhaps too great a risk, but the result… the result would have been worth it. "However, do not mistake my allowing you time with your self-delusion as surrender. The eyes of Sithis follow you carefully."

"Whatever debt I owed your _children_ has now been repaid." Lisette retorted, standing her ground as best as she could. She had also come to another conclusion, one even more important yet directly related to this offer.

She had to leave the Brotherhood behind entirely.

If she stayed, there would be no end to the nudges, no end to the so-called persuasion. And the Night Mother wouldn't rest… and the others, those who knew and had survived, they would resent her, openly or in their hearts. And she didn't think she could bear to see Lucien look at her with animosity.

"I leave you now with them; my own order awaits me."

If she had taken the trouble to look around at the three Speakers who served as their audience, she would have seen various degrees of astonishment and surprise. Only Lachance appeared composed, though there was something struggling to surface in his dark eyes, despite his exceptional control.

"Yes, the mages of Cyrodiil are seeking their lost leader most fervently." The Night Mother was keeping true to her words in appearing to know more than the mortal eye could see, for certain. She could see, through her power, the chaos the Mages Guild had fallen in the panic of having its leader vanished so.

They would grow and flourish under her rule, but she would eventually find them far behind her level in instinct and speed. Once that day came… she would be ready.

"I will send them to you, then, child of Sithis." Lisette shuddered at what from the Night Mother was likely a term of endearment. "But remember… the Dread Father doesn't relinquish his hold on their children, even when they abandon him." Whether it was a warning or a threat, the specter's smile remained as triumphant as ever. "I will await your return to our Family… Listener."

Before Lisette could comprehend the words and fully understand what it must feel like to have a knife slide against your skin with just enough pressure to threaten but not to harm, there was a flash of light that blinded her and she was gone.


	30. Fog

This took a little longer than I anticipated, but college is a nightmare nowadays. I am sooo glad I didn't have the brainless gall to get a part-time job right about now, because I would most certainly die. In any case, this fanfic is almost finished, one or two chapters left to wrap up the loose ends – particularly those regarding Lucien. He is not so prominently featured in this chapter, but I promise you, he will be making a much-needed appearance very soon and give everyone a reason or two to feel surprised.

On a side note, one reviewer mentioned that Lisette is now leader of both guilds – this is not entirely the case. She did refuse in the chapter before this and no one can be appointed without their consent, so I think that issue has yet to be solved. Read on!

**o.O.o**

**Fog**

**o.O.o**

There were several kinds of teleportation, each requiring a high amount of concentrated magic focused on every particle of what one wished to transport – be it a living being or an object – and the will required to send the package on its way and have it arrive in one piece, so to speak, was beyond the capacity of most mages. That was why it was more common to have a group of enchanters set up portals; pre-programmed gateways of magic that knew exactly where and how to send whatever entered them with ease.

Thus the fact that when the brief flash of light subsided, Lisette found herself standing before the gates of the Arcane University was highly impressive. Of course, she had always known that the Night Mother was a creature of power, but as a spirit, she seemed to have lost none of her magical strength, no matter how large it had been prior to her death. What Lisette didn't notice was the change in her; as it had been when she had left the Tournament of Ten Bloods, her appearance was changed, though not as drastically as then. Her dirt-stained robes were pristine, fragrant even, without creases or tears. Her hair was tied back elegantly, revealing the entirely bruise-free skin of her throat. Perhaps there was a touch of make-up involved in that concealment, as the Night Mother was hardly a creature who had or supported powers of healing, but the fact remained that, to the uneducated eye, there was not a sign of throttling visible.

Once, long ago, the thought of the Night Mother having access to make-up would have been a good jest for Lisette. Once.

Though perplexed by her sudden appearance, the guards saluted her at once with practiced words of respect, some staring a little more than usual because they hadn't seen the new Arch-Mage up close yet, others looking a little more intensely, uncertain if they had ever actually seen her before (and of those, most were certain they would have). She strolled past them in an automatic manner, though, still somewhat dazed by the whole experience. Quite frankly, if someone had come up to her that very moment and told her that all that had happened in the past two days was no more than a dream, she would have believed them immediately.

No such person came. No one stopped her from entering the main tower of the university. She received polite bobs of the head whenever people saw her and everyone made way for her and greeted her.

This was real. This was life. Her life.

Her feet automatically carried her to a destination that shouldn't have come to her quite as naturally, seeing as she had only become the Arch -Mage days before this second – and hopefully final – great trial. Again, it all seemed like the sequence out of a dream, but that idea had to be discarded the moment a very real Raminus Polus stepped into her path in the Arch-Mage's – her – lobby. He looked torn between worry and relief, the surprise obviously etched into his otherwise mild features. In a moment of awakening, Lisette pitied him greatly, because it was obvious that he, the mentor-like figure in at least one aspect of her life, cared about her to a degree that his calm demeanor couldn't conceal.

There was no other present on the second floor, something they both might be grateful for in the future.

"Lis-Arch-Mage! Where have you been?" the question was quite insistent and Lisette didn't have the heart to dismiss it, even though she could, being his superior now. It was one of those things she couldn't get her mind around still.

She did, at least, have the courtesy to halt her step and give a slight smile. "You are free to address me as Lisette in private, Raminus."

"You've been missing for two days." the Master-Wizard insisted and Lisette could almost see all the effort he must have put into finding her on his own and the sleepless nights etched into his expression. If he was hiding it half as well as she thought, then it must have been truly a nerve wrecking experience. "It has been most trying attempting to disguise this disappearance from others."

Of course he did the logical, the pragmatic thing; if news of a disappeared Arch-Mage spread right after her being appointed to the office, her effectiveness might be questioned. She owed this man far more than she could actually repay short of giving him her position, which she knew he wouldn't accept.

"I thank you for this; rest assured that it will not happen again." There would never be cause for it again. Now, all she had were the Mages… and the Mages she wouldn't forsake for any reason. "What news do you have for me regarding the formation of the Council?"

Raminus allowed her to change the topic with only a briefly questioning glance, but quickly understood that wherever she had vanished to, it wasn't something she intended to share with him. "We have… potential candidates, but reorganization itself will be trouble. There is no one who can be fully trained in their roles in less than a month, which sets us back in these trying times."

"Has Chancellor Ocato decided to offer any input?" Lisette asked, accepting the offered parchment gratefully and going through the submitted names and reasons with routine precision. Almost as if she was just cataloguing potion ingredients, really. The mind boggled.

"Not yet." Raminus gave a heavy sigh. "With the current state of the Empire, he might just be trying to keep things under control in the palace while counting on our support." With the random Daedra attacks, they were short on good people and no doubt Ocato was still trying to assuage the nobility into helping him.

"Which he has, of course." Lisette folded the parchment in a matter-of-fact manner, as if the realization had just dawned on her. In any case, she handed the list of candidates back to Raminus. It felt natural, somehow. "Very well, then. I am happy with these choices, but we will need to interview them all to see who fits the posts best. Could you have them informed that they are to come see me – us both, I should hope – to talk about the possibility of receiving this position?"

"Of course. The schedule will be created and we should be able to handle this within a week or so."

Lisette nodded contently and appeared to be ready to walk off, but then blinked and thought better of it. Perhaps there was something within her that had the capacity to be merely the manipulator – something the Listener essentially had to be – but she wasn't going to slip into a role given to her by anyone but her own mind. Her face was sheepish as she looked down at her own shoes guiltily, like a child ready to apologize for having been caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

"Raminus. I really am sorry about… vanishing on you like that." She would have liked to tell him everything, to have someone comfort her, someone who wasn't one of the Brotherhood, who could easily tell her that she wasn't one of _them_… but it was selfish to ask anyone to be the bearer of her secret, especially someone who cared about her. Better to bear the uncertainty. "But I couldn't… well, there was no avoiding it forever, really."

Strangely, Raminus seemed to accept this without reservation, nodding primly, like a satisfied parent might. In truth, he suspected that it might have something to do with the persistent gossip about Lisette being visited by a rich-looking but somewhat older man at times – gossipy hens had been speculating about their relationship for weeks when he appeared, as, in their opinion, this had been the only interesting thing about mousy little Lisette. Now, after her rapid rise to fame and fortune, there had apparently been no further sighting of her mysterious but frequent visitor. Raminus could easily draw some conclusions from that, but decided not to pry. Lisette was young and this was a trying time for her; in the absence of actual family, she needed all the support she could get.

And so, he summed his feelings up with a single question. "Will you be all right now, Arch-Mage?"

Lisette, both deeply grateful and a little bewildered, smiled slightly "I promise." she noted. Then, before the Master-Wizard left, feeling dismissed, a thought came to her. "Would it be too extravagant if I were to visit the Bruma Guildhall to oversee our repairs for a little while?"

"To show support, you mean?" Raminus asked, turning on his heel. "It might, if only for a little while. But not at once, you understand; we must prioritize."

"Of course." Lisette said with a nod, allowing him to leave. Her business in Bruma was not an entirely urgent matter.

Her matters at home were different.

There was a single person in the entire University that didn't hesitate to block her path with an indignant air around her. Merete was unimpressed by her new periwinkle robes, her fancy staff or the deference of others.

"Forgive me for interrupting, Arch-Mage, but I have matters to discuss with you." The title rang completely hollow and the Nord didn't even bother disguising the sentiment.

"Of course." Lisette decided to ignore that, as they were friends still. "Whatever you might need; I have time."

"It isn't what I need - it's what you need!" Those in the vicinity were immediately watching this new and frightening entertainment. "You haven't been yourself since you came back."

"I don't understand what you mean."

"You've been hiding things from me for a while now. And now this. Arch-Mage! Defeater of Necromancers!" Merete didn't seem quite so impressed. "What happened? Why do you keep avoiding me?"

"I'm not avoiding you or anyone else, Merete." Lisette said softly. "I am… busy."

"Busy? Sweet Akatosh, Blanche, talk to me. Tell me what's wrong – tell me anything!"

Too many people were watching, following with curious eyes. And there was no turning back – there never had been, where the Dark Brotherhood was concerned. And, in a choice between her old life and this new future laid before her, it was time to cut ties with something.

It was possible that she would never see Lucien again.

"Thank you for your concern, Merete." The Arch-Mage said deftly, forcing the steel of experience into her eyes. "But I am completely all right."

It was a good enough reason to build a few more walls.

**o.O.o**

A week passed, then two. No black-clad messenger came to haunt her dreams in the dead of night. No whispers of an otherworldly voice filled her ears with the names of the damned. In fact, for Lisette Lemieux, life continued almost as it had before, with the exception of her elevated position in the University now.

And, of course, the fact that her previous friendships had been altered, at best; severed, at worst. She presented a different person to the world.

There was much repairing to be done, rebuilding once the Oblivion crisis finally passed and the gateways to the other world were permanently closed and there was always more and more. She was entirely immersed in work without a moment to herself and it was wonderful. Not a second to waste, nor an instant to sacrifice to doubt. There was only the restoration of the Mages Guild. The Council was once more intact, having even received the blessing of Ocato, whom she had met several times. The Bruma Guildhall was being rebuilt and she would visit it soon. And the Staff of Worms, safely put away, remained a trophy to be studied for months to come.

It was amazing how quickly time could pass when one was involved in something that brought their soul great joy. Something that made an aspect of their subconscious self reach out, touch the reality around them and proclaim, without hesitation: "This is right."

Within these short weeks, Lisette had fully embraced her position as Arch-Mage. There was still much to learn and to do, but she no longer felt as if the world rested on her shoulders. She could delegate now, even if the tasks she gave didn't involve risking one's life against formidable foes, and she was opening doors to others as well as herself.

Her reputation was preceding her efforts, in any case, which only served to further her cause. Raminus actively encouraged it, actually, to spread word about how well the guild was recovering from the brief but destructive war. Within a month, the Guild was more or less back on its feet and better off than ever before, as long as most could remember. Of course, there always had to be one thing that remained the same; the Arch-Mage was cordial to all, spoke with whoever needed advice and denied no worthy one admission to the University or her office… but she kept her polite distance from all non-professional gatherings, claiming various excuses which, in this case, had to be and were accepted without reserve, because they were more or less true.

And though there might have been murmurs of discontent coming from those who didn't believe that someone who knew only combat (Lisette would have laughed if she knew this) could lead them effectively, now, she was being showered with praise by those very same doubters. It was her involvement, in the end, that kept everything going. Because Lisette strove to be everywhere – or, at least, wherever she could to help.

The day another part of her life permanently ended began distinctly unremarkably, at least in comparison to her recent schedule. She was holding a presentation and discussion about how the Necromancy crisis might best be prevented in the future, which was something she had long been thinking of. Her idea was to inform the students, but subtly discourage them instead of making them think that their instructors were holding back secrets to power. She knew the selfish thinking patterns of young nobles only too well.

The gathering was filled with all the senior instructors that could be spared, including most of the current Council. Lisette was a surprisingly good public speaker, excluding a quiet zeal that backed up her words. Today, however, she seemed genuinely passionate about her ideas regarding the education of the students. It was somewhat comical to her audience, considering the fact that she herself was younger than some of their students.

"…and that way, we can become more efficient in teaching the newer students that Necromancy is not to be trifled with. Demystify it, but, at the same time, make certain not to portray it as something that was banned purely on a whim."

The Arch-Mage somehow managed to captivate her audience without having to resort to sound-amplifying spells for her voice, though that could have been part of the mystique that still surrounded her.

A hand was raised in question and Lisette nodded and pointed to acknowledge the questioner. "So you suppose we should have someone study it on a theoretical level to-"

Much to the Khajiit mage's irritation, the doors to the lecture room burst open rapidly and in scattered a now very timid looking student, who cast apologetic looks wherever he dared glance, stopping only once he reached the Arch-Mage's desk. He bowed once, twice and managed to get out part of his message.

"P-pardon me, c-committee m-members…. A-A-Arch-Mage…" he added, giving a twitchy little bow to the woman again, obviously rather alarmed to be actually delivering news to her in person. "There are some people i-in the lobby who claim they've come to see you. They refused to wait and are frightening some of the students…"

"The Arch-Mage is required here now, Evoker; they will simply have to wait like everyone else and behave, or be escorted out of the university premises by the guards." Tar-Meena, who was now on the Council and formed the second half of Lisette's self-proclaimed surrogate parents, noted in her usual leveled tones.

The young Imperial, certainly not much older than her, seemed very nervous when being the center of attention of all the high-ranked mages and seemed to want nothing further than to sink into the ground and never surface again. Lisette decided to be gentle this time and prompt him a little; after all, without details of any kind, she couldn't very well just walk out of the room.

"Did they state their names or business?" she asked kindly, attempting to make herself look approachable. The small age gap should have helped, but it seemed to have the opposite effect; most apparently considered her a prodigy now. "Unless the issue is critical, I'm certain someone else can assist them just as well as I."

"No, A-Arch-Mage." the Imperial responded, a faint redness making her pasty face look healthier and probably closer to its natural state. Despite the normalcy of the conversation, he found the Arch-Mage highly intimidating, especially since he was one of those who had never experienced battle and yet longed for it. To stand next to one who had slain a foe as great as Mannimarco was terrifying for him. "They are most insistent to see you, personally. The woman who apparently leads them – she insists that she's your mother."

This final remark, which had seemed so ludicrous to him – he had half-hoped that the Arch-Mage would scoff at the very idea – cast a shadow over Lisette's face. She didn't feel the fear that this moment had always brought her in her mind, but neither did she expect this to be easy. Nevertheless, she had to make certain at first. The symptoms seemed clear so far.

"Did you see a crest of an eagle swooping upon serpents that were devouring each other?" she asked, remembering the crest of her family with nothing but disdain.

It had been far too long since she had considered her surname anything more than a means of giving others a chance to identify her, to tell her apart from others who were called the same as her. She had no need to flaunt the origins she had run away from. But her family, she was certain, would waste no time in proclaiming their identity to the world, especially if her mother had indeed decided to make such a long journey just for her.

"Eh?" The Imperial blushed again, feeling very odd to have the Arch-Mage talking to him as if they were equals. "I-I believe so, Arch-Mage."

In truth, there had been a crest somewhere along the line, displayed strongly in a flurry of lines, but all he could remember were the cold eyes all of the visitors shared. Seeing the Arch-Mage's eyes begin frosting over in a similar manner confirmed this to him.

Lisette swallowed whatever words might be forming at the tip of her tongue. She had hoped against hope that it would never come to this. Consternation would be of no help now, not when she had faced others far more powerful, though with no less power over her than this.

"It might be true, then." she murmured to herself, but it was loud enough to be caught by others. The whole hall began buzzing with whispers, like a nest of bees; no one knew much about the Arch-Mage's life prior to her current legend. She had to act. There was no time to contemplate things now, especially when there was yet a chance to settle things quietly.

"Do you want us to send them up to your quarters, Arch-Mage?" the Evoker asked, now able to master his stutter at long last. This was an achievement he congratulated himself on.

And Lisette gave a smile, sincere, showing none of the worry she had felt for a few moments. There was nothing to fear now. Nothing to hide from, as things were coming full circle.

"No. I am needed here, as was correctly said." she noted, glancing thankfully at Tar-Meena, who had managed to restore order. There was still the discussion that needed to be allowed after the debate and, quite frankly, Lisette knew it was far more pleasant and important than whatever might await her at the end of it. "They will have to wait like every other petitioner, unless they have brought a long lost heir to the imperial throne with them, in which case kindly direct them to the Imperial Palace."

"Yes, Arch-Mage."

**o.O.o**

Thus the illustrious Lemieux family was kept waiting for another hour and a little bit over, as the Arch-Mage was "unfortunately detained" and "couldn't put aside her duties" for the moment, considering "the state of affairs after the crisis". Yet the moment came when even the debate was called finished and Lisette, though saying goodbye to almost every person present and chatting a bit with one or two, was forced to face the task which she now regarded more unpleasant than terrifying.

She saw them, undeniably them, standing in the main hall, some lounging around as if they owned the place, some greedily drinking in the sight of their surroundings. Bothiel, who was nearby, was surveying them with barely concealed distrust and the hint of dislike Lisette saw in her whenever something in the Ornery wasn't working properly.

Lisette had been expecting her parents, at the very least, but the Evoker's words had (fortunately) prepared her for a larger group awaiting her. That both her parents were there was almost a miracle in itself, as her father always claimed to be too busy to attend his children individually and her mother was always stuck in her ploys to advance their social rank. But they had dragged the closest and most annoying of her relatives along as well, it seemed; her sisters, one older, one younger, the "proud heir to their family", her brother, older by only a year or so, and one of her cousins, who was most likely the husband or fiancé of one of the aforementioned sisters. None caused pleasant memories to resurface in Lisette's mind, though she hadn't thought of them in what seemed years.

In fact, no memories seemed to resurface in their minds either, because they barely spared her a glance, nor did they acknowledge her presence. Not even her distinct robes were apparently enough of a give-away, but Lisette could understand the reason for that. It wasn't as if they were going to lower themselves to look at the common folk, after all. She wished she had forgotten all of this social nonsense, but it all flooded back when she saw them.

The feeling of entrapment most of all.

Blocking her thoughts from the outside world with an efficiency that even Lachance would have been proud of, Lisette swallowed whatever disdain she had left for this final skeleton in her closet and respectfully approached them. She didn't recognize their superiority in any way, however; though she had given up her rank and station, this was her domain, and as Arch-Mage, she was higher on the social ladder than them.

"You wished to see me specifically, mesdames et messieurs?" She reverted to the language of High Rock not out of habit, but to get their attention if they insisted on seeing no one unless that someone saw them for what they were first.

The first who noticed her and approached with wide eyes was the cousin she assumed was here with one sister or the other – she had no idea which. She hadn't kept much track of her distant relations back then, so it was impossible to do so now. Nonetheless, Lisette was good with names and remembered them well. Félicien Saint-Martin, if her memory supplied correctly, was a cousin a few times removed – she had no idea of the number – that often tried to worm his way into her father's favor. He was a snake, that one, but a crafty viper at that, with his sleek youthful beauty.

His quite genuinely surprised face morphed into a brilliant smile so seamlessly that it could have perhaps been considered an expression of sincere happiness by those who knew no better.

"Cousin Lisette?" he asked, his dark eyes taking in her countenance in a manner she had found unsettling ever since the first time. "How… how unexpected!" he laughed, giving her a mild bow, which was quite a change compared to his usual behavior. "The portraits do you no justice at all!"

The last time they had spoken to each other was years ago, but Lisette had seen him more often than she would like. Seeing him now, followed by the little posse of relatives…

"Your visit is most surprising, Monsieur Saint-Martin." Lisette said mildly, not returning the welcoming gesture. "Had I been forewarned, I would have made time in my schedule for you."

The cheerful countenance of a trickster must have charmed many, but somehow, Lisette could practically feel the air of oil around him. "Now, now, Lili, there's no need to be this distant – we are family, after all…"

Before Lisette had the chance to correct his entirely inappropriate form of address, they were interrupted by Félicien being almost literally shoved aside by a brisk gesture of the woman whom the Imperial Evoker had quite correctly identified as Lisette's mother.

"Félicien, chéri, hush."

In three words, she defeated any kind of protest. Chimène Lemieux was a woman past the zenith of her prime, which her features were slowly beginning to betray. Faster than the faces of most women her age, even, as she very rarely displayed anything but displeasure with her situation, whatever it may be.

"Under any other circumstances, I should have you direly punished for subjecting your father and I to this fright, child!" she almost barked at Lisette, but restrained herself to an exaggerated show of motherly affection. "Do you know how long we searched for you, beside ourselves with worry, you running off like that!"

For good melodrama, she almost attempted to embrace her estranged daughter, but something in Lisette's eyes stopped her. It was defiance, something enraging. Chimène was used to her children obeying without question or cowering.

"I have an idea, Madame." Lisette answered succinctly, not moving an inch.

Chimène refused to allow anyone to take control of her prepared scene. "However, considering the current state of things, well…"

"Will you have your parents stand here in the halls to have commoners witness our reunion?" But control had to be relinquished, as even she recognized the authority of her husband. "I should expect better from you, mademoiselle."

Lisette's gaze wavered briefly, which Chimène chose to consider a good sign. The Arch-Mage gave a light nod to Xavier, also feeling that this might be best saved for a private audience but unwilling to make the invitation, which could be perceived as a sign of weakness.

"Of course, monsieur, that was tactless of me. Please, this way." she said, leading the way to the portal to the higher levels.

The Lemieux family could very well be considered minor nobility in High Rock, therefore they could easily be forgiven for assuming that their long lost black sheep would be living in poverty or at least ascetically. The splendor of the Arch-Mage's rooms, though they saw very little of them, took them completely by surprise, causing the daughters in particular to stare at the various contraptions and gadgets, wondering idly about their worth and, in the case of the youngest, jealously pondering if their sibling had as many golden gowns as she seemed to have golden scales.

For much else, they could be forgiven.

Lisette summoned seating for them all and sent a memo to Raminus, asking him to put her appointments for the next hour or so on hold. She had no intention of suffering any longer, even if nothing could be resolved in such a short time. It was already almost too much, seeing them all there, her mother in her jade velvet, her father assessing the worth of all the objects in the room with a peddler's routine skill and her siblings looking at her as if she were Cinderella, to whom they had to cozy up now, much to their fury.

"Now that we all seem to be comfortable, someone might tell me the reason for your sudden visit in such numbers…"

"You are an important woman now, yes? Practically part of Cyrodiilic nobility, one could say." Chimène noted, as if that was self-explanatory. She wiped a bit of dust from her heavy skirts before continuing rather chattily. Lisette had never seen her mother behave in such a way towards her. "News of such a rapid rise to happy fortune travels swiftly – twice so in High Rock, as you know. We were already most anxious to find you… and suddenly, there was more reason than ever, with the great lead of your new position."

"She was impertinent to run away from good fortune as a prestigious marriage, mama!" her younger sister, no longer able to hold her tongue, burst out, pouting like a child a fourth her age wouldn't get away with. "You said you would chide her, punish her!"

"Shut your mouth, Béline, before it flies off like a chatterbox with wings!"

"You shut up, Magalie!" Béline whined, sticking her tongue out at her dark-haired sibling.

"Enough, both of you." Now this was more like what Lisette remembered, she realized. The honey returned the moment her mother's gaze was back upon her. It was almost as if she was trying to soothe a lion that hadn't yet decided to strike, but wasn't entirely averse to the idea. "This is supposed to be a happy occasion… a family reunion."

"Yes, you two would do well to set your jealousy aside…" Edmond, her brother, ever charming, sneered at the sisters with satisfaction. He was one of those men who believed that even if he achieved nothing throughout the course of his life, his very presence in Tamriel was a gift not only to women, but to civilization itself. He was also one of those who excelled at achieving absolutely nothing. "Unless you can pop out half a dozen worthy heirs, you have little chance of competing with this achievement…"

"Well, you have met me, seen me, assured yourselves of my well-being." Lisette interrupted before the already-seething Béline could attempt to claw out his eyes with her little fingers. "I thank you for your concern-"

"There is no need for thanks, fille." Daughter. That wasn't a form of address one heard often nowadays, not when they were her. She didn't really remember being addressed as such even in her childhood. "What we _need_ is for you to return to the family… figuratively speaking, of course. You are still using your birth name, in which case it should be easier for the association to spread. Unfortunately, there are others with the same, so-"

"You wish to exploit my position as a figure of note to expand the family renown." Lisette finished plainly, without pomp or ceremony. It had been obvious from the very moment their arrival had been announced, but she wanted to hear their hypocrisy from their own mouths. This bluntness might have stunned the theatrically-prepared Chimène for a little while, but Béline, denied the chance to attack her brother, snorted in a very un-ladylike manner at her sister instead.

"Of course we do! What _else_ do you think we got dragged here for; to see you?" she scoffed, sneering at Lisette while hating the golden ornaments on her robes and the onyx ring shining on her finger. "Not bloody likely!"

"Language, Béline." Magalie, who was apparently in charge of keeping her siblings in line, hissed at her while attempting to keep her smile in place. "Behave!"

"What? As if you wouldn't be dragging her off to be flogged now if she wasn't a person of note! I never counted her as family anyway!"

"_Béline_." It was Félicien's mention of her name that managed to calm the girl, or, at the very least, distract her. The young man had said little since being reintroduced to Lisette, apparently in deep thought, but now regretted the table between them, as it would have been the ideal opportunity to take Lisette's hand. "Mademoiselle Lisette, please accept my apologies for this… scene. You see, prior to having received the fortunate news of your current position, your excellent parents had agreed with mine to bind your sister here to me in marriage."

Lisette didn't understand. "My congratulations, then, I don't see the reason for animosity."

"Lili hadn't been informed then, Monsieur." her father added, succinct as ever.

"Ah, I see." Félicien's smile turned a little bitter, but then shone all the brighter. "I will have the honor of informing you myself, then, that my first chosen fiancée was you, mademoiselle."

The marriage; the final bond she had run from. Lisette remembered now. She hadn't been _informed_, as he father had said so well, who was to be her groom, because, in the end, it had never been up to her. She supposed she ought to express some form of regret over this so-called loss, but the Arch-Mage most definitely didn't consider it a failing. However, she knew this couldn't be the one reason for their arrival – it was, in a way, too good to be true, that she be rid of two annoyances at the same time.

"Once your current situation was revealed to us, I expressed interest in restoring our association, which, I might happily add, was granted, assuming I might have your consent." the young man added, giving her the smile that was a little too sharp, a little too wide. It reminded Lisette of the vampire that had nearly managed to suck out her blood so long ago… only this time, the involvement of fangs didn't seem to be truly necessary.

"We're not even asking you to come back to High Rock, Lili dear…" her mother added, as if the arrangement was already sealed. "We know that you have a great deal of responsibility and power here, in the Imperial City. Why, I imagine you consult Chancellor Ocato on a weekly basis…"

"What your mother intends to say is that we would be glad to bury any disputes between us this way and have you return to the family, so to speak." Xavier interjected, before his wife could go on fully into details about the wonderful society they could be introduced into this way. He was stern as always and, in his dark clothes, Lisette was reminded of the image of a Grim Reaper… or an assassin… "We do not come as beggars, either; the connection would increase your supply of mages from High Rock, no doubt. Our family still has connections in the right places, as you well know."

"Hah, you're lucky, Lili." Magalie smirked, thinking of her own wedding arrangements that hadn't required consent of any kind. "Papa isn't expecting you to start having kids right away and there is a hefty supply of _distractions_ you have at hand here." She barely resisted licking her lips now, but hadn't restrained herself so when a handsome mage or two had gone by while they had been waiting.

Béline, torn between wailing and screaming, decided to settle for whacking her sniggering brother, who was obviously having a great laugh at her expense. The parents were watching Lisette expectantly, so only Félicien gave the young girl a brief glare that effective silenced her in every way.

Lisette looked at them all, this collection of figures from the past, the trap of a spider's web that the fly had fled boldly, secretly and speedily so long ago. The years spent in the company of the decadent and the base, she could never regain. But in that moment, she realized that this served to elevate others in her eyes, despite their profession, which most would consider evil and foul. The darkness of a person's nature wasn't in their belief or in their actions… it was in their choices, ultimately, the path which led to both of the former.

And the choice between returning to the gilded cage and discarding it forever wasn't a choice at all.

"I understand completely." Lisette said, giving them the first and only smile she ever had to offer these poor creatures. Then, she turned to Félicien, who, in her eyes, had lost all of his bite. "I thank you for the offer, but I must refuse."

There was a moment of stunned silence, when everyone's expression froze in a grotesque parody of astonishment. Béline, ever graceful, was the first to break the silence.

"R-refuse? You have the audacity, the gall to refuse such an incredible offer? You're stupider than I-"

"Thank you for your most educational input, sister, but there is no need to repeat my words." Lisette said, silencing the girl with the resolution in her eyes. Then, she looked back at the man who intended to marry the robes and the inheritance. "My apologies to you, Monsieur; I hope you shall be far happier with her than you would have been otherwise."

"But Lili, I don't understand-"

"Arch-Mage Lemieux, if you please." she said, without any hint of malice. She wasn't Lizzy or Lili or even Blanche… she was Lisette, her own person, Lisette, not what others saw her as or expected her to be.

"-why you would refuse… it is an improvement for both of our stations and with you having grown so beautiful-"

Edmond snickered again, as if things were going exactly as he had envisioned them. "That's Lili for you, frigid virgin extraordinaire."

"T-this isn't possible, I demand that you say something, Xavier, put some sense into her thick he-"

"Lisette, it is unacceptable for a daughter of our family to break off an engagement blessed by parents on both sides-"

"And thanks to you all… for reminding me precisely why I chose to leave High Rock behind."

Interrupting one's parents was an act of impertinence anywhere, but Lisette chose only to adapt to the standard of politeness around her. She looked at them, one by one, resolute, and they shrunk back, these specters of the past, as if they were the children and she the one holding the key to their toy box, ready to destroy it.

"I want you to know that once you leave here, I will forget you." she said, her voice peaceful. "I will never spare any of you another thought. But you, I am certain, will think of me often for the rest of your lives. Live well, if you can life with each other. If you will excuse me, I have much to deal with now."

With that, Arch-Mage Lemieux cast a spell that summoned several Dremora, one for each of her visitors, who didn't allow the guests (each speaking over the other, trying to get some attention) to follow her to the other chambers of the quarters and directed them all unceremoniously towards the exit.


	31. Onyx

As promised, here's the weekly update; this time, a little shorter, but the last one was a bit longer, so it balances things out. The next chapter will, in all likelihood, be the last one, unless there's an epilogue, which depends entirely on how much I can squeeze into that one… in any case, more loose ends get tied up, more plotlines get resolved and we get closer and closer to the end!

**o.O.o**

**Onyx**

**o.O.o**

It would be another month before Lisette had the chance to go to Bruma.

Her duties as Arch-Mage were more time-consuming than even she could have imagined in that she was barely allowed time to get out of the University, never mind the city itself. Much of several of its districts had been destroyed in the fighting and as magic was the fastest way to restoring things, she was needed everywhere at once to coordinate things. Ultimately, however, the reconstruction had reached such a stage where only supervision was necessary and Lisette was able to delegate these tasks to others, who were equally qualified to handle them and could contact her if something went awry.

She had to formally present her reason for going to Bruma to the Council, which approved the notion, but also reminded her that, as the figurehead of the Guild, she couldn't spend too much time providing moral support and showing people that they cared. Ironically, the Battle of Bruma helped her with this endeavor, if only because the Mages Guild hadn't been able to participate actively in it and needed to show that it was ready to reestablish an active position in the city. Countess Caro had to be consulted as well and only when her approval was confirmed could Lisette leave for Bruma.

Yet this time, she wasn't permitted to just ride off on her own like she might have done previously. As Arch-Mage, she had to look representative and be protected, the Council insisted, and so they sent her off with a company of four battlemages; a useless protection, seeing as she could handle petty bandits much easier on her own and had hoped to travel inconspicuously for as long as possible. The escort assured that she arrived in Bruma with the appropriate pomp, was greeted by the captain of the city guard and even had an audience with the Countess before she was being directed around the city she had lived in for a whole year, as if she knew nothing about it.

No one appeared to recognize her, not even those whose faces were still familiar to her. At least, not as Lisette, who had once lived here. Two years were a long time for people to forget, it seemed.

Reconstruction on the Bruma Guildhall was already underway and they were making good progress, from what she could see and what those assigned to the project hasted to show her, almost tripping over one another in their zeal. The building had seen better days, something Lisette alone remembered and chose to keep it that way. There were no more familiar faces present in the halls, no pranksters that would help you only to turn your nose bright green – J'Skar was still on the road to recovery and refused to return to Bruma, if the information she had was correct – no alchemists to be her teacher, no socialites to offer brilliant smiles that suggested no true wit behind them.

This was no longer her home. In a way, one of the reasons for her coming here was to come to terms with that fact.

However, Lisette had another reason for coming back to this city, one she viewed as more important than even her duties.

She ordered the battlemages to take a break – after all, they had been "guarding" her for almost eleven hours at the time and the signs of fatigue were beginning to show. Allowing this made her seem generous, but it was done for mostly selfish reasons; she didn't really want them following her on such a private endeavor. It was wonderful not to have to explain herself to anyone for a change as well.

In the past months, there had simply never been the time to focus on her past promises, before her life as Blanche had begun to dominate the existence of Lisette. The last time she had been in Bruma, she hadnt even thought of visiting Bradon and Erline, so great her anger with the Necromancers had been.

Now, standing before the door of the little cottage, she felt almost sheepish and certainly dissatisfied with this fact. What had happened with her birth family might have been considered a reunion by them, at first; but for her, this was the family reunion she had sought.

Her knock contained more confidence than she felt herself, but Lisette felt herself rejoicing at the sound of footsteps inside coming to answer. At last, she could repay these people for the kindness they had shown her so long ago.

The rickety door opened, showing the elderly face of Erline Lirrian, who appeared more tired than Lisette remembered. She was still dressed in the worn clothing the Arch-Mage remembered well and, from what she could see, the inside of the cabin hadnt changed too much from the last time she had brought medicine there.

"Yes, how may I—" In a gasp, Erline's hands flew to her mouth. She alone saw past the differences and managed to recognize the woman at her doorstep, even if it managed to stun her for a few moments. "By… by Talos!"

During the past months, Lisette had learned that the best response to surprise and anxiety was a smile and a calm exterior, which is what she decided to offer at this moment as well. "I'm sorry I'm this late, Erline." she murmured, but her eyes showed both the anticipation and the gladness she felt at this reunion.

Upon hearing the sound of her most familiar voice, something she had only heard in her prayers and dreams, Erline couldn't help but trap the girl in an embrace as tight as she could manage. Lisette, though somewhat unused to this and surprised by the sudden rush of emotion, reciprocated in kind. She was somewhat glad when the gesture ended, nonetheless. But the happy tears on Erline's face were most definitely worth all this.

"Oh! Oh, my darling girl… I-I was so worried about you!" Erline was quite aware of her own babbling, but decided that the situation quite obviously warranted it. "When I heard what had happened in the Imperial City, with the destruction and all… oh, Lisette…"

The smile turned entirely genuine and a bit relieved. "May I please come in?"

"Come, come; you are at home here, you need not ask!" Erline said quickly, opening the door wide and hastening to let the mage in.

The cottage was small and cozy, the exact opposite of the university halls or the grand manor where her family was no doubt still residing at. But while the residents of the two latter buildings always seemed to crave something larger, more splendorous, more glamorous, the Lirrian family seemed quite content in their modest dwelling in the city where winter seemed to be a permanent season.

"I missed this…" Lisette noted quietly as she sat down into the offered wooden chair. She felt comfortable here, welcome.

"When your letters started coming late, I was worried that something might have happened to you, with that Mythic Dawn cult running about." Erline was saying as she hurried to pour some herbal tea for the two of them. "Then there were those rumors about… Lisette…?"

At first, she didn't know what had caused Erline to stop speaking so abruptly, but then Lisette saw her glancing down at the ornaments near the collar of her robes. Of course the golden embroidery would be visible once she removed her cloak to sit down, but she had forgotten for a moment that Erline most likely wasn't yet aware of the main reason she was in the city – at least, main as far as the Council was concerned.

"Ah, this." she motioned towards the markings with a clumsy gesture. "I'm sorry, I sort of… forget about wearing this as time passes." she said quietly, glancing at her boots. "This is one of the reasons I came here. As you can see, I… well, I'm a person of some significance now and therefore have access to many resources." That, if one could judge by Erline's expression, was a gross understatement of things. Lisette went on, though, coming to the true point of her visit. "Come live with me in the Imperial City." she said, almost pleadingly. "I can arrange lodgings for you within the Arcane University and employment as well; we need non-magical personnel to help with the upkeep or the kitchens. I would be able to find you something, for both of you."

She could ensure that they got the best-paid jobs they could and were living at least twice as good as they were now. The Imperial City might be more expensive than Bruma, but with her protection and support, they would be able to afford almost everything they pleased. This was the only way she knew how to repay kindness.

Erline remained rather stunned as Lisette spoke, but appeared sadder and sadder with each word. It wasn't that the idea didn't appeal to her, it was that there was nothing to be done about the current state of things.

"Lisette… you don't know how happy you've made me to see you again and in such a wonderful position as well." she said, quite honestly. If there was anyone in Tamriel who deserved the best of luck, it was Lisette, who had helped them so in their time of greatest need. And she couldn't think of a better candidate for a position of power either. "Bradon always knew you would get far. But I cannot take you up on your most generous offer."

The Arch-Mage wasn't easily stunned nowadays, but this peculiar response managed to get her to blink, perplexed.

"But… why?" They had nothing to lose and everything to gain, and so easily as well! "You should discuss it with Bradon at least, I know he would like a different job than the one he had when I… Erline?" Lisette stopped, frowning a little when it seemed that she had accidentally hit some kind of nerve. With her long absence, this wasn't entirely unnatural, but she was getting a bit worried. "Are you all right?"

"I am, I am, Lisette. But Bradon…" Erline gave a soft smile, like one who had come to terms with the realities of life and decided to move on. "Bradon is with Talos now, sweetheart. And this cottage is all I have to remember him by… I couldn't bear to leave it now."

Lisette couldn't speak for a few seconds. Bradon was dead. Gone. The cheerful man who wouldn't have hurt a fly unless his life depended on it... "Dead? How? When?" she stammered out.

"Oh, not long ago… a few weeks, at most." Erline said, surprisingly calmly. "One of his former adventuring companions killed him, claiming to be a vampire hunter, claiming that Bradon was a vampire. All that, just to get the necklace we gave you when you were leaving." At the mention of the pendant, the first memory associated with it that came to Lisette was that of the chain tightening against her throat during her first encounter with Lachance. "It was a terrible affair, but the truth came out eventually. The watch couldn't do much, but there was a very helpful adventurer who solved things… it doesn't bring Bradon back, of course, but at least he can rest in peace now."

"I… I don't know what to say." Lisette noted, unable to offer any kind of support. She, too, had lost many people close to her in the recent months, but still didn't know how to deal with such loss accordingly.

"Lisette, your coming to see me is the most wonderful gift I have yet to receive." Erline noted earnestly, smiling a little once again. "You mustn't think you owe me anything. I'll get by, as I always have. It's enough for me to know you're happy. Are you happy?" she asked just to clarify, concerned.

The Arch-Mage pondered the question momentarily, but found herself unable to come with any kind of answer. "I've been too busy to really consider that." she admitted, somewhat surprised by her own answer.

Was she happy, now that her life was once more her own?

"You should most definitely consider it." Erline said, straightening up with a motherly tone. "You've gone about as far as you can go, Lisette. If you keep rushing forward and never consider where you're heading, you can very easily lose something important along the way."

**o.O.o**

During those past two months, it had been damned impossible to get into the Arcane University without drawing a whole lot of suspicion and completely out of the question to approach Arch-Mage Lemieux, both due to reasons of remaining inconspicuous and because there was practically no time in her schedule for anything other than the business of the Mages Guild.

The reason Cadmion knew this was because he had tried, on occasion, to enter the building and seek her out without an appointment, so to speak, but stealth wasn't his strongest suit and with all the movement in the place, there was absolutely no chance of this happening.

Thus the only way to actually get to her meant waiting for the instant she left the city to follow her and attempt to catch her somewhere alone.

Now deprived of the speed Shadowmere provided – though he had been most glad to return the demon of a horse to Lachance, who seemed to be the only creature the mare saw eye to eye with – losing even a group of five mages on extraordinarily loud horses wasn't that great a chore, considering that their animals were freshly rested, while his horse had already endured the journey from Skingrad, which he now considered home. Knowing their intended destination helped somewhat, though, meaning that he could take shortcuts through the wilderness, something his horse was trained for.

Of course, once within the city, remaining hidden while following someone whose arrival was highly anticipated was beyond the impossible. He was thus most relieved to see that he didn't have to waste hours lying in wait for the chance of catching her alone somehow when Lisette left the newly-reconstructed guildhall on her own a little while before sundown, wrapped in a heavy cloak concealing her robes to keep her warm but with nothing obscuring the sight of her face.

Perhaps it was a wrong decision, but he didn't follow her at that point, as there were too many guards around and too little cover. She would have to come back to the guildhall eventually, of course, so it was much easier to remain where he was and wait. Not that it likely wouldn't be an interesting sight to see, what the Arch-Mage was sneaking off to do without her guards, but Bruma was hardly an accommodating city as far as climate was concerned and there was very little he would be able to do to interrupt whatever business she had elsewhere.

Inwardly, he was quite grateful for her not taking too long in returning.

Cadmion made certain to step into her view in a way that meant she wouldn't be able to miss him unless she tried exceedingly hard, but he needn't have feared quite that much. During the past year, Lisette had honed a sufficient level of paranoia to know when she was being watched intently. This was one of those instances.

"My lady, you grow more radiant each time I see you." The Speaker wasn't a dramatic man by any means, but he was a relatively sensible actor. Still, seeing the girl again truly was cause for a smile, especially since she was once more conscious this time. She even managed to recover from the momentary surprise of seeing him there rather well.

"What an unexpected surprise." she noted after a moment or so of silence, obviously uncertain as to how she should address him. Though apprehensive, she accepted his appearance with some degree of weariness, as if this was something long in coming. "I suppose it was arrogant of me to assume that my dealings with your organization had ended the first and last time we met."

"It's cruel of you to say such things." Cadmion noted, falling into step with her, though he understood the reasons for this quite well. "However, I hoped against hope that I would see you again… and, as luck would have it, I'm here today as the messenger of sorts of our illustrious leader."

"Oh, dear." Lisette muttered, obviously not wishing to hear the next part.

"Not her, no." the Speaker noted, understanding who she was referring to. "At least, I think not. I rather think Lachance himself wants you to know of the recent developments, whatever he might tell himself." The Night Mother wouldn't have bothered with such minor acts, of course, and, technically speaking, he hadn't been sent by their actual leader either, but in this case, the ends justified the means, so to speak.

"I don't understand."

But she did, in part. Somehow, she had also assumed, quite naturally, that the reward for loyalty would be great when the Brotherhood was involved – and, out of the possible candidates for the highest post, no one had been more loyal than Lucien. What she didn't get was why she would need to be informed of this, what with her departure from the Brotherhood and all.

"Well, he didn't seem too pleased with his recent ascension… whether because of your departure or not."

It was true that Lucien struck one as a competitive person, but also as someone who believed in earning the spoils of war. Yet if anyone deserved this dubious honor – even if he most likely wouldn't consider it as such – it was he.

"Give my regards and congratulations to him." she noted, attempting to be gracious.

"You might want to do that yourself." The idea hurt somehow. She didn't want to face him yet – if ever – to be confronted with why she chose to leave in such an abrupt manner. "We're still rebuilding and I might not see him anytime soon for… private matters."

"A fine excuse."

Cadmion chuckled deeply. This wouldn't be easy. "I thought so myself. You're rather famous among us, apparently – even my new herd in Skingrad has heard of you. I doubt anyone knows what you look like or who you are really, though." He paused, deciding that a direct approach might be best after all. "You really intend to sever all ties, then?"

It was somewhat disappointing that she didn't even hesitate before nodding. "It's for the best."

"For whom?" She didn't answer that question, which was understandable as well as disappointing. "Look, I, ah, don't mean to pry into personal affairs or push you into anything, but… talk to Lachance."

Part of Cadmion didn't really understand why he was attempting to facilitate this reconciliation between his immediate superior and a woman he himself wouldn't have minded pursuing. The rest of him reminded that part that having said superior lead the Brotherhood with a chilling drive that made Vaermina seem like a friendly slumber party guest was something that ought to be remedied. All of him agreed on the fact that, while sexual frustration was a horrible thing, denied sexual frustration with only one target that remained stubbornly out of reach was enough to drive even the most focused and detached man over the brink. Lachance certainly fit all the criteria.

"It was hard enough for me to carry out the… Purification." Even now, it was difficult to speak of it. "He knew those people far better than I did. To him, you must be… well, pretty damned special." he said sheepishly. Cadmion wasn't a man to jump to romantic conclusions by any means, but he understood the concept of yearning for something – in any manner – exceedingly well. "Particularly after that whole Bellamont debacle."

The Arch-Mage kept her gaze pointedly fixed forward. "I would prefer to forget that."

"Can't say I blame you, though I envy you for not having to read that diary he kept." He was the one who had had the dubious honor of reading it first to see if it was evidence enough. Even now, it made him shudder. "Nasty stuff. You're better off not knowing."

Gratefully, Lisette let the matter go. "But this wasn't meant to be purely a social visit, surely? You must realize that by now, there is nothing you could possibly threaten me with."

"I wouldn't dare, really." the Speaker retorted. He wasn't a man to have ulterior motives; he didn't have the cunning for planning too obscure plots and, to his fortune, was well aware of it. "Goes against the odds, my principles and my superiors, really. I'm sort of wondering where the portrait of you I found in the lighthouse went. Someone must have taken it, else I would have kept it."

"Cadmion, you don't know me well enough to warrant such statements." To her credit, Lisette didn't say it unkindly.

The Speaker, however, gave a mischievous grin that might have been effective on a boy half his age. "I know an interesting woman when I see one."

"Don't push your luck, my friend."

He knew enough of the language of High Rock to catch the unintended pun, but wisely chose not to comment on it. Pushing Lachance right now might trigger a most unseemly reaction. They were almost at the doors of the guildhall now, which meant that he would have to make himself scarce soon. Besides, the journey back to Skingrad was long and he certainly wasn't in the mood to report why he was absent from his post to a moody Listener.

"Go see him." he said instead, when they finally reached the steps leading to the Mages Guild. They were still far enough to remain obscure from the entrance, which was what he intended. "Talk to him."

Lisette gave a slightly pained expression when he stopped, obviously not intending to leave before receiving an answer. The problem was, she didn't know what kind of argument to give to get out of this undoubtedly unpleasant confrontation. Not only because she didn't want to be confronted by Lachance, but not least of all because she knew her own resolution to remain neutral now would be tested.

"Even if – and I do mean _if_ – I should decide to go through with this, I have no means of reestablishing contact. Nor do I know where he might be."

Cadmion would have laughed in any other situation. There was nothing in the world easier than that.

"Nowadays he's mostly stuck on the road between Bravil and Fort Farragut; his private retreat, if you can consider a skeleton-riddled ruin that. I wouldn't recommend either, though, and I don't think you'll be able to go to very soon either. But tell me to pass on that you want to meet him and you can bet no security will stop him. Trust me, I know him that well."

But it was a long shot and, if her polite and slightly tight smile was anything to go by, not one that was likely to fall on fertile ground.

"I thank you for your… concern," she said, selecting the word as an obvious compromise, "but I stand by my decision. Everything moves on as it should, at its own pace. So will you all," And it was obvious that she was referring to the Brotherhood, even though she continued to refuse speaking the name. "You don't need me."

It was quite admirable to see in an actual case study how a person who apparently didn't want to see something adamantly refused to make the correct connections. Because, as she herself was saying, the Brotherhood could do without her; the Night Mother's whims and cryptic chess with them all as the pieces wouldn't change that.

"Doesn't mean we don't want you. Nothing I say will make you consider this?" Cadmion tried one last time.

Lisette wanted to say that there wasn't, unless there were lives at risk that were hanging on this decision, but knew too well that when the Brotherhood was involved, there were always lives involved.

"We both know that if he wishes to speak with me, there is very little that I can do to avoid it." She would not seek him out, though, because that would almost insinuate that she thought she had done something wrong in choosing her own freedom over… over… over what, exactly? "My door is closed merely to the organization itself, not friends and acquaintances."

She wanted nothing further to do with the Dark Brotherhood. The question was if it would ever be able to separate the institution from its representatives.

"Then you'll let me visit?" Maybe even take her out to dinner – that would certainly be more daring than facing the Night Mother at this point. He had done that already.

At least that was a possibility, considering the fact that there was no way in Oblivion Cadmion was ever going to attempt a similar strategy on Lachance, no matter how bad the man would get. The Speaker quite fancied his limbs the way they were, along with his internal organs, thank you very much.

"As long as you don't stalk me, get blood in my office and possibly announce yourself beforehand." Lisette remarked mildly before turning away and vanishing through the thick wooden doors of the guildhall.


	32. Pearl

There be an epilogue to this, but I haven't decided yet. Ironically, this chapter was mostly written practically months ago, when I was writing the first draft of the plotline. I've changed some things, made it far less sue-ish (which can only be good), but, all in all, I like this version of the ending. I have some ideas regarding an epilogue, but I don't know if there will be time for it or if it's even necessary right now. We'll have to see. I'm sorry to say goodbye to Lisette and Lucien, though, so there is a chance that the epilogue will get posted.

Stay tuned for that, hopefully, and for now, enjoy the chapter and drop a review or three if you have the time!

**o.O.o**

**Pearl**

**o.O.o**

What Cadmion had told Lisette was certainly the truth, from his point of view, but the actual reality of things was a little more complex.

Lachance was indeed now the Listener, as per the Night Mother's decision once she had sent Lisette away. Not even Arquen could protest against this and the High Elf had wisely held her tongue when the spirit announced her intention. The Black Hand was now two members short, consisting of Arquen, Cadmion and Lachance himself, something that had to be remedied at the earliest opportunity. New Silencers were needed as well, to replace the dead ones, and their recruitment standards had to be temporarily lowered to make up for this grievous blow.

All of this now fell under Lucien's supervision, a fact that annoyed him greatly for various reasons. First of all, this meant temporarily – _hopefully_ temporarily – relocating from Fort Farragut to Ungolim's old house in Bravil, so that he might consult the Night Mother whenever necessary. He couldn't travel as much as he would wish and now had to _delegate tasks_; and Lachance was a man who believed that the only way to make certain something got done was to do it himself. The post of Listener involved loads of administrative work, more than even his already abhorred position of Speaker.

Yet, throughout all this, his thoughts often strayed to Blanche, who was beyond his reach for now. Or should he use her actual name when thinking of her, since she was no longer their Cousin, so to speak… or was it preferable to curse her, the reason why he was now in charge of restoring the Brotherhood?

Part of him was surprised that such a firm believer in goodness as her didn't choose to reveal them to the world and help the Legion persecute them, but then again, the current Blanche was far wiser than that. Besides, she knew better than to risk her own life for foolishness. Most likely she was just hoping to forget everything and turn over a new leaf.

The thought was excessively annoying, perhaps even more so than her actual absence. It was easy to picture her trying to assume the public face of one who knew nothing of the Brotherhood beyond what was common knowledge.

Despite all this, had Lachance been made aware of Cadmion's failed attempt to have him and Blanche reconcile on formal terms (despite the fact that they had no dispute, really), the Speaker wouldn't have escaped a very epic scolding, at best. He had no intention of throwing a childish tantrum about the situation and then ignoring Blanche. If no one else, then at least he deserved an explanation for this sudden departure and refusal of a great honor, however undeserved it may be. he himself had little concept as to why the Night Mother had chosen to create such a large push, especially as she seemed to have expected Blanche to refuse… and then turn around as if nothing had happen and select him to fill the position in the meantime.

Not to mention that the situation was highly degrading for him. Though it had been worth seeing the look on Arquen's face.

Considering the incredible workload he had to cope with – which he assumed would be matched by that with which Blanche had to deal with, especially once the Oblivion crisis had passed – it would be almost three months from the day the Night Mother had made her choice before he managed to see her again.

Though he could have chosen to simply come to the Arcane University like any other visitor, Lachance refused to allow her time for creating elaborate tales to avoid his questions. Besides, it had been far too long already since he had experienced the thrill of the hunt, the anticipation that preceded a successful kill. Tracking her wasn't done for reasons so lethal, but it didn't make it any less satisfying, especially due to the little time he had for the task.

Fortune – or Sithis, despite the lack of death this confrontation would hopefully involve – was on his side, though, as, after a day of trying to catch a glimpse of her on the University premises, he caught a conversation between several students, who were seemingly rather disgruntled by the fact that a Restoration faculty session about the importance of some issue or another hadn't been attended by the Arch-Mage herself, as she had apparently left the University to recover some rare and valuable potion ingredients that supposedly only grew on the planes of Oblivion. How she intended to do that, with the gates now sealed off, they had no idea, but some already speculated with no small envy that she might have a private lab of some sort outside the University.

After some brief confirmation of this from the mouths of higher-qualified mages, Lachance chose Frostcrag Spire as his destination without a second thought. It made sense, truly; if he was to be surrounded by these chattering incompetents every day, he would need a retreat to stop himself from killing them as well.

With Shadowmere back, the ride was swift and almost comfortable, if not for the snow that began the further up north they got. It was the height of winter near Bruma, even more so than during the rest of the year. Fortunately, Blanche seemed to have realized that the tower needed to have its own stable to be reachable by horse, as the animals could hardly be allowed inside. The grayish horse she had dubbed Binky (not that Lachance knew) was there and reacted relatively calmly to Shadowmere's presence… or, at the very least, put on a brave face.

Lachance took quick notice of the various atronachs that were now up and about the tower – Blanche's creations, no doubt – clearly used as a supplement for manpower to help with the defense and upkeep of the tower. They didn't stop him from entering the fortress, for which he was grateful, as he didn't want to waste time fighting animated rocks and icicles. Possibly Blanche had modified them to make them recognize who was an intruder and who wasn't; which meant that she might have been expecting him.

From the inside, the tower appeared at first remarkably unchanged, but Lachance wasn't a mere casual observer; he was able to see the amount of work that had gone into refurbishing the stronghold into something that could crudely be considered a comfortable mountain retreat for an elusive wizard. And, of course, the fact that the place was inhabited by one wasn't concealed at all, with all the books and sheets of parchment that were lying around in curiously arranged piles. It was an orderly chaos.

There was no sign of Blanche on the ground floor, but Lachance quickly learned how to operate the various portals scattered around to allow transportation between levels. The living area to which he was swiftly transported now also resembled a home more than a cold stone tower, also littered with books and research notes. At first it seemed that Blanche wasn't there either, but the gust of wind that swept through the chamber revealed that the balcony door was open, framing the figure of the Arch-Mage, her blue robes billowing in the gale, her hands raised high and glowing with magic.

She was apparently trying to isolate the balcony from the cold outside through a kind of shield and succeeding only to a degree. If she had heard him enter, she made no sign of it and turned around only when the puce blow around her palms had faded. Strands of hair were whipping around her face, slithering their way out of a rather shaken bun. Her face, too, was reddened by the wind, especially around the cheeks, emphasizing her oval face.

Apparently, she hadn't been expecting him, as her eyes did widen somewhat, but no rigidness entered her form as she reentered the chamber. The balcony door slammed shut behind her, whether due to the wind or to an unseen magical command. Lachance wasn't certain what reaction he had been expecting from her at the moment, but mild-mannered courtesy wasn't on the list. Of course, that was all he received as Blanche, though apparently frozen on the spot, simply nodded her head in acknowledgement.

"Listener." she intoned politely.

So she had known – or guessed – that this would be the cause. It only added to the irritation her abandonment of the Brotherhood had caused him, because she realized and understood how this would affect him in general. Upon hearing this, Lachance was barely concealing anger.

"Arch-Mage." He articulated the two short syllables with just a hint of his rather dramatic and mocking flare.

In the face of such a chilling greeting, she remained remarkably even-tempered. "Dare I ask to what I owe this unexpected visit?"

"You obviously dare a lot, Blanche." When Lachance whispered, the sound was more threatening than a roar; the sound of a rattling snake, deliberating from which angle to strike. "Far more than I expected you to."

"Free choice is often considered daring, I hear." she said, perhaps with the bite someone in her position was entitled to, perhaps not; it was difficult to tell. At the present, Lachance cared nothing for that.

"Don't play mind games with me, I taught you all of them."

"You assume much, Lucien." Blanche noted, not entirely unkindly.

She had become much bolder, much more like them. Perhaps she was content to deceive herself that she wasn't like that, but the truth of the matter remained that it wouldn't have taken much to push her to the point when she would have accepted standing in his place, bearing the words of the Night Mother to her children.

"All that you are you owe to the Brotherhood."

At that, her eyes narrowed slightly, from what he could see, almost mimicking the glint of an irked predator. Almost. She was still Lisette Lemieux, after all, and therefore couldn't quite master draining the softness from her features.

"No; I owe it to myself, above all else." she pointed out softly, "I owe it to Raminus Polus and the late Hannibal Traven. I owe it to many good friends that are now dead, some of which belonged to the Dark Brotherhood. But I owe nothing to the Brotherhood itself, most esteemed Listener. If anything, you owe me your life."

As if he didn't know that! He couldn't so easily forget her intervention with the proceedings, let alone the gratitude and the anger the action deserved in equal measure.

"That debt has been long since repaid. How many times was your fate in my hands?" he challenged, perhaps more insultingly than the situation called for. It was simply a reminder of what she was already aware. "Do not be so quick to call for debts from me."

The motion of a sigh shaped on her lips. To Lachance's astonishment, the mage walked past him when she finally regained the will to move and began neatly organizing a stack of books on her desk. She did so for a few seconds before her movements slowed, unable to tune out the sharpness of his gaze on her. The thick stream of her bound hair shimmering in the light as her head turned, she glanced back at him with slight weariness.

"Lucien, why have you come?" she asked, perhaps attempting to answer the question in her own mind. She hadn't thought there might be much truth to what Cadmion had implied, but now, it seemed that Lachance genuinely seemed to resent her for the choice of leaving. The thought filled her with dread. "You are now the head of your order – surely you have more important things to worry about than putting me in my place."

The ghost of a sneer made his face a little more malicious, a little crueler. "I suppose it wouldn't be too good for the great and noble Arch-Mage to be seen with the likes of me, would it?"

That was a low, petty blow.

"I am not that shallow."

She was wrong about that; she wasn't shallow in the least. Perhaps that was her fault; a shallow person wouldn't have made a selfless choice such as the one that had placed them in this predicament.

"You are… dear to me." she added after a moment, the words coming out with the coloring of disbelief. Weeks ago, she wouldn't have dared to voice such a sentiment. Moments ago, she wouldn't have believed it to be true.

Lachance would have found this most amusing if not for her transgression. "Blanche, do you even understand the severity of your actions?" he asked with renewed patience. However, it was somewhat forced, as his slightly rigid steps towards her betrayed. "You refused the Night Mother herself."

"Yes, that is true." she nodded simply. It was as infuriatingly confusing as her calling him _dear to her. _Lachance's teeth clenched to help resist the urge to grab the Breton by the shoulders and shake sense into her.

"Are you an utter fool?" He accented the last words as if she wouldn't understand them.

The mage frowned, set down the last book and turned back towards him fully, the insignia embroidery on her robes completely visible. "No, but I get the feeling you are. I'm Arch-Mage of the Cyrodiilic Mages Guild, like you've correctly said. I am too public a figure; someone like me cannot be the Listener."

"You were chosen." In the centuries of the Dark Brotherhood's existence, no one had dared refuse the Night Mother, let alone turn down such a tremendous honor. "Anyone else would-"

"Kill for it?" Her lips pursed mildly, perhaps in her equivalent of a mild snort. "I thought that was a requirement."

But she had passed all the requirements and now had everything needed for this position… Lachance would have said that she was afraid, except that, looking at her, he knew this to be a lie. It was that even having come this far, she had no wish to be part of the Brotherhood. Or perhaps the reason was what he was coming to increasingly believe.

He had too much respect for Blanche to grab her by the throat or at least by the collar of her robe, but the movement he took towards her could be described as anything but non-threatening.

"Do you think you need to do me favors by passing the position onto me? Do you feel _generous_?" he hissed irritably. If one couldn't be a martyr, one might as well be a saint – perhaps that was how one such as she thought.

The only hint that she flinched was in her gaze and even there, it was barely noticeable. That she lowered her eyes might have been considered a sign of guilt in anyone else.

"I actually thought your former Silencer would get the job." She was avoiding the issue. Typical. "He seems efficient enough for the role."

Lucien didn't bother disguising his snort. "He's still a whelp. Capable, yes, but not cut for an office job. He works best in terrain."

"Then I suppose you will demote him if he asks you to do so. You would likely prefer to have him back as your Silencer." As far as she knew, that particular position was still open, due to the fact that the Black Hand was recovering.

"That is beside the point; he is irrelevant to these matters." Then, he realized something. "I take it he's already approached you?"

Blanche nodded. "Yes, he has. Nothing he said compromises either of our positions." she said sincerely, allowing the hint of a smile to surface. "I am pleased with your choices for the Black Hand."

She refused to budge, continually. In a bizarre way, Lachance was actually proud of her for showing such subtle defiance. He showed this not through words, but by stepping back slightly and giving her space to breathe, so to speak.

"It seems that no matter how high you climb, you remain the hard-headed mageling you have always been, Blanche." he noted, but he was also pleased with this discovery. Many others would have allowed the sudden change of rank to change them as well.

A frown crept into Lisette's face as she understood the one point that Lachance refused to admit – that his _pride_ was wounded by having been bestowed the position through someone lessens interference, not his own work.

"You are upset that you are now Listener?" she asked warily.

Upset! He abhorred desk work, though at least as Listener, he could delegate tasks and had no need to do the recruiting himself. But being the highest ranking member of the Brotherhood meant no assignments, simply governance. He might have resented it even if he had earned the position.

"I have been _upset_ ever since you refused to join our ranks." he said instead, knowing that such boastful confessions wouldn't provoke her to respond as he wished. "Since you washed your hands of the Brotherhood in front of the Night Mother herself. You _belong_ with the Family, no matter how fervently you may lie to yourself."

"And what would it look like, someone with no standing in the Brotherhood becoming Listener on a whim?" Lisette challenged, knowing there was no other way. Lachance was too much an assassin to understand her point of view completely. At least he would see it from this angle: she would gain no respect from the younger members; she was, after all, the Cousin, the more distant relation, not truly one of their own.

"The _whims_ of the Night Mother are sacrosanct to her children." Lachance countered. And it was hardly a whim, this selection of Ungolim's successor. At least, he believed so. "There would be no trouble with the decision. And the position would suit you; the Listener never reveals their identity to anyone besides Speakers and possibly Silencers. The Listener doesn't kill; the Listener simply hears_ her_ voice and the Speakers delegate tasks further down the chain."

Her golden head tilted to the right in mild interest, studying him intently for a moment. The unhidden resentment in his voice wasn't directed at her… it betrayed his feelings.

"Is that why you are upset to have been given the job?"

Lachance's dark eyes closed for a moment in a calming gesture, though he was irked that the mage succeeded in seeing through him, even with a slight delay.

"The position was given to you… and you refused." he repeated, trying to make her understand. "Such an insult is unheard of in centuries. Since the very creation of the Brotherhood."

"I will not reconsider, Lucien." Her lilting voice was now even and soft, even when she spoke with such conviction. "I think you are entirely fit for the position. I wish you all the best." She worded it as a farewell, because, with a minor sting inside her, she realized that it was unlikely that they would see each other soon, if ever.

"You still understand nothing. I am your substitute, Blanche." Finally, he allowed his true meaning to surface; the debt to her was nothing in the face of the disgrace her generosity meant. "I will be _no one's _substitute." His voice cut like a blade and, for a moment, he looked every inch the assassin preparing the spring upon a very suspecting victim.

"Are you going to kill me, then?" By Talos, she should have been afraid. But Lisette wasn't. Strange how idle that question sounded, like an inquiry after the weather. It was… unsettling to feel so calm discussing such things. "Then you wouldn't be second fiddle to anyone. As barbarians say, you would have surpassed me."

The Listener raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "You consider me a barbarian? You cannot claim to be a saint yourself." Not anymore. "You wouldn't be speaking so bravely if you were."

"No, I consider you…" Lisette paused there, uncertain what to say. It was difficult to encase their relationship in a single word, especially now. "I don't know what I consider you. I do not categorize you, Lucien; I never have."

Apparently, Lachance wasn't quite certain how to address that either; in any case, he chose to take different approach of things, having noticed a small detail that might have escaped him otherwise.

"Why have you kept the ring?" he asked, glancing briefly at the Black Band, which continued to adorn the mage's finger.

Truth to be told, Lisette didn't really know. She had discarded the Blade of Woe from her personal arsenal for the time being, leaving it in her chamber of Frostcrag Spire in favor of the more easily accessible Goldbrand. The sword, while holding unpleasant memories for her as well, was nowhere near as symbolic as the dagger. The ring, however, remained always in plain sight, always right in front of her eyes, a reminder of the dark times when she had no choice but to comply, a hostage of the assassins.

"Force of habit." She chose to be succinct.

Too plain an answer… and a lie, at that.

"Is it because you cannot bear to forget part of yourself..." The step Lachance took towards her was non-threatening now, but could easily be altered. The mage didn't seem to notice. "…or because you are afraid of remembering it?"

"It's a remembrance of those who wore it that I cared about." Finally, she did, but by that time, there was neither room nor time for an escape. Care she still did, though the majority of them was now dead. The keyword being majority.

The quirk of an amused smile graced his lips. Her slight twitch when he pulled out the ribbon binding her hair with a swift single motion was close to enjoyable. "As always, you are hopeless as a liar."

"Hope dies last." she retorted, her brow knitting in confusion, but without the hint of fear.

"Then death has come for it."

And the gloved hand that had touched her cheek snaked its way into her unbound hair, refusing her any opportunity to escape through a firm hold. But the touch was softer than anything either of them was used to and, this time, Lisette realized perhaps a different feeling could be associated with this motion instead of merely desperation and panic.

The taste of her lips was neither fear nor blood, which was common when Lachance had to distract or incapacitate someone this way; instead, there was only sweetness; a foreign enough taste for one such as him. It took a moment or so for him to understand that this was because, once the initial rigidness of astonishment and wariness had passed, the kiss was returned, so softly that at first, it was almost unnoticeable. But it was a step great step from the harsh desperation of so long ago and certainly the strength-draining spell she had cast afterwards in an attempt at immobilizing him.

That remained true even when they broke apart, as her arms remained at her sides and her dazed, later wide-eyed expression didn't suggest the mindset usually attributed to a pre-casting frenzy.

"I don't suppose you will just let me go now?" Unlike before or the last time she had spoken those words, her voice was breathy. She had never before appeared so genuinely at loss at what to say or do. This reflected his initial reaction to her usage of this tactic somewhat.

He, on the other hand, gave no consideration to repeating his words of back then. She was _his _and always had been. They were only realizing it now.

"Never, beloved maiden. Death never releases its prey." The low laugh he gave turned into a whisper that couldn't under any circumstances not be considered a claim. And though a shiver passed through the mage – he could tell, due to the second arm holding her in place – her face remained almost entirely serene.

The movement of Lisette's hand, which had perhaps intended to become a defensive gesture – or possibly a makeshift stranglehold, at least for a moment – stopped mid-motion before any decisive action on that account could be taken. Not long afterwards, her shoulder began hurting from sustaining the pose and she reflexively allowed it to lower to Lachance's shoulder. By accident, almost, she felt something metallic and almost familiar under her fingers as her palm slid slightly lower.

After a second or so, she managed to figure out where the rather easily accessible hidden pocket was and withdrew the object. If she was surprised that Lachance allowed this, that sentiment evaporated when she recognized the Phylactery of Lightness, not discarded at all, to – apparently – the Listener's amusement.

"You are a _horrible_ liar." she accused once all the facts had come together.

The arms holding her in place didn't budge; if anything, the entrapment now seemed more complete. "My beloved, you wound my little black heart."


	33. Diamond

All right, people, here is the epilogue. If you end up not liking it, you can consider it something beyond the final story and not part of the continuity, but I found myself liking things more and more as I continued writing, so I do consider this part canon. I understand that the last chapter ended up being a little more ambiguous than perhaps beneficial, so here, we clarify things, we have some fluff and we have resolution that the characters end up needing.

I wrote most of this while listening to the InuYasha soundtrack, particularly the wonderful piano Tribute to InuYasha by Kaoru Wada; if you have the time to search for it on YouTube, do it. You won't regret it and it isn't more than four minutes long.

I'd like to thank everyone for reading and reviewing this story, which has a very special place in my heart, due to the presence of Lisette, who is by far my best OC. I'm sorry to see it go, but there's always the point when one has to cut things short and now, I believe, is the time to say goodbye to these characters, at least for now. A final disclaimer: anything Oblivion-related belongs to the wonderful folks of Bethesda; only Lisette "Blanche" Lemieux is mine and I fully intend to keep her. Do check out my other stories, some even Oblivion related - especially Anyone Can Listen, a parody starting Mary Sue, Lucien, Lisette, M'aiq the Liar and loads of other memorable characters. To say any more would spoil it.

If you have the time, leave a review or three to tell me what you think about this story.

Peace out!

Zerb

**o.O.o**

**Diamond**

**o.O.o**

Confusion.

That about summed up what Lisette felt when she woke up the next morning. After all the insanity of the past few months, she was perfectly willing to believe that all she remembered from the previous day from the point that Lucien had appeared was no more than a particularly realistic dream.

It wasn't such a stretch, when one thought about it; many of her dreams of late had been quite strange and vivid. In a sense, no one could blame her, after all that had transpired. When one's world got shattered abruptly and rebuild with an almost casual air despite the harsh strokes of the builder, reality could end up slightly addled.

She had had dreams of turning into a Worm Acolyte, her mind wiped clean of any resistance; dreams of Mannimarco devouring her soul; dreams where nothing stood between her and the pits of fire besides a sword she couldn't lift and Boethia's laughter. The most terrifying, though, were the dreams of those she had known that were dead; dreams of Bellamont, the pleading-despairing-devouring-insane glimmer in his obsessed eyes when he had thought there was no escape for her, preparing to kill her for what he presumed was betrayal.

The work she was putting her whole being into dimmed those dreams, but they never went away fully. She couldn't imagine waking peacefully now, which was why the sentiment was so foreign. Or perhaps it was because in the dream, she had seen anger turn into something different in one who mattered and then-

Wait...

The Arch-Mage sat up bolt upright, her vision darkening just for a moment due to the sudden blood rush. She didn't have the imagination for such things. Of course, dreaming about death and Oblivion and all sorts of disturbing things would have seemed the height of creativity for some, but certainly not one who knew that all that was real.

What she had dreamed of... she wasn't certain whether to be embarrassed or frightened of some hidden aspect of her personality that had chosen this not so opportune moment to randomly surface. She really had no idea that part of her was intent on immersing herself in entirely too incredible sex with her closest friend.

The latter thought was quenched seconds later, because the hands that gripped her shoulders firmly but lightly at the same time to steady her gave her a different reason to be terrified entirely.

"Don't make such abrupt movements right after waking up or you'll get dizzy. You haven't had enough rest."

In the flesh, Lucien Lachance was sitting on the edge of her bed. As dreams were usually associated with a feeling of mild incoherence - and Lisette knew she was in possession of her wits at least to the degree to recognize that the lessening grip holding her steady was, in fact, quite real - any chance of this being a particularly vivid hallucination had to be ruled out.

"I'm used to functioning on little sleep." She parroted the reply she had given most people that had found her in the library in the dead of night, going through stack upon stack of books. The full weight of things hadn't yet come into place in her mind; she was sort of on auto-pilot, especially due to the mind-boggling actual presence. On her bed, no less. "Celedaen, remember?"

"Ah, that would explain some of your endurance." The assassin's mouth twitched just a little, but there was something very pleased in his eyes, whether by the wordplay or something else. "There is a bright side to every hardship, it seems."

All evidence to the contrary aside, this had to be a dream. A most interesting one, too... or perhaps she had fallen asleep at some point before this and the current situation was reality. What were the chances of Lachance having resorted to knocking her out when she had refused to stand down? Knowing him...

Having glanced away from Lachance's face, she spotted a medium-sized bowl of pure water and a clean cloth that had apparently been prepared.

"What are you doing with that water?" she asked, steering the conversation to something saner than the fact that her dreams had apparently mutated from visions of being sliced apart by Daedra to making love with the Dark Brotherhood's Listener. One could only hypothesize that dreams of murder could only last for a time and the mind had to entertain itself with different kinds of torture over time.

"This is for you, actually." Lachance clarified. Considering the amount of alchemy supplies littering the place, finding a clean bowl had been relatively easy. Getting to the snow-purifier that melted ice and created drinking water had been a somewhat trickier process. "It took me a little while to figure out how to work around the enchantments. Fascinating place, this tower."

For a moment or two, he stood up and drew back the thick blanket to which Lisette had somehow forgotten to cling. Considering the weather in the mountains was always highly capricious but involved great deals of wind and snow, everything in the Spire was outfitted to preserve heat until the enchantments inside could be amplified.

"Why would I- oh." Lisette promptly fell silent, her face switching between ghost pale and beet red in a matter of moments.

This had really happened. In the mountains, one certainly didn't sleep in the nude out of some misguided habit. And, if that wasn't indication enough - which was doubtful, but Lisette could project an admirable amount of denial - the red smear on her thigh, smudged and dried out as it was, certainly was.

A shiver passed through her, not entirely due to the cold.

"Allow me." Lachance was being surprisingly blasé about the matter, to the point of being casual. While a considerate thing to do, it was also somewhat unnerving, if Lisette had cared to examine the details. "I believe I still handle seeing blood better than you."

"You don't have to-" She didn't even know what she intended to say.

"Someone does. And... well, I suppose I do owe you something." he said with a shrug, not altogether reassuring. "Courtesy is the very least I can offer."

This snapped Lisette out of her reverie. Courtesy. It helped steady her voice, if not the rapid drumming of her heart, which was still working overtime. "I see."

"Unless you mind allowing me access to your body, of course. But I hope shyness won't be an issue any longer."

Shyness! Imagining - _remembering_! - was enough to warrant shyness. Part of her wanted to scream and run and hide, proclaim loudly that this wasn't real, because it couldn't be and therefore it wasn't. But there was something in the touch that soothed her, allowing a carefully buried yearning for someone who would care for her to surface. She found herself nodding numbly, as if she wasn't in control of her own body.

Lachance needed no further reply. He dipped the cloth into the lukewarm water and squeezed most of it out, then proceeding to gently trace the mark on her leg and wipe it away. He had supposed that this might be the case of the matter when instigating things in the first place, but other than this obvious clue, one wouldn't have guessed... well. Perhaps she was simply a swift learner in more ways than the academic.

"This really happened?" she asked a few moments later, her voice small and quiet, colored with a kind of passive disbelief.

It would be unkind to laugh, not to mention it was liable to trigger an undesirable reaction from her, but Lachance almost did so nonetheless. It wasn't something he was likely to forget too soon, unless it should be overshadowed by a repeated performance.

It had certainly happened, though, and if the Listener had his way…

"I can attest to that, considering my presence at the event." How strange that she seemed timid now, when at one point, she had obviously given up all her inhibitions. "I do hope you aren't having second thoughts now, as there is very little either of us can do about it."

Surprisingly, Lachance was most relieved when she shook her head. "No, I just... it's somewhat unexpected for me, that's all." And she was becoming apt at understatement, she realized when she grimaced a little. "Ow."

"You need to tell me if I'm hurting you." Lachance remarked gently.

Now that was a very broad instruction. Lisette did find some small humor in things, though.

"That doesn't really solve much, does it?" she mused, her face a little less grave. "Asking an assassin to be gentle."

"You're the exception that proves the rule. But I'm well aware of the irony." Lachance returned the no longer pristine cloth into the bowl, observing his handiwork just for a moment. The purpose behind mage robes was apparently to be as baggy and asexual as possible, because he would most certainly have noticed her legs otherwise. "You might wish to take a bath as well. I'm told first mornings after aren't entirely pleasant for women."

Lisette nodded slowly, believing she understood. She did feel somewhat sore. "I see, you wish to be on your way."

"Baseless assumptions are a fault, as you told me yesterday." Where she had gotten that idea wasn't clear. Unplanned but entirely welcome sex didn't take away the importance of a need for resolution. "I have no pressing business to attend to, thank Sithis... and I do believe finishing our conversation is necessary, pleasant as the diversion has been."

"I'm not sure what you expect me to say or do now." Lisette noted after a moment, eyes downcast and uncertain. Somehow, she had gotten herself to accept the situation as fact, even glossing over the fact that the heat of blood pumping through her had taken away any need to cover herself right then. Such worries took away modesty, if only briefly.

And, of course, the situation had been far from unpleasant… it was, even now, actually… somewhat wonderful. Completely insane, certainly, but wonderful all the same. The hands that normally worked the will of a dark god were touching her with utter gentleness, and, after some time of living in the mountains, her gooseflesh couldn't entirely be attributed to the cold. Especially since it appeared in select places only.

She was so like a doll at that moment, pale and docile and just as breakable. If she hadn't seemed to be genuinely at loss and if there wasn't something else they needed to establish, Lachance would have had no qualms about employing the basest means to take away her tension and teach her not to lock away that in her which enjoyed physical attention. Regrettably - _most regrettably_, the assassin thought grimly, gritting his teeth just a little tighter at the motion of pale hair against her supple breasts - pleasurable things would have to wait.

Sithis give him strength.

"There is enough time for such things." Instead of this, his fingers snaked their way into the mage's hair, bringing her face upwards as well. "As I've said, you may wish to attend to your own comfort first. And procure some clothing. Your current state isn't productive for a proper discussion, you understand."

Neither was this continued proximity. Lisette flushed to the roots of her hair, years of modesty returning in a flash, and reached for the discarded blanket part hesitantly, partly as if her life depended on it.

"I- yes. Could you give me half an hour?"

"Take all the time you need. If I may have your permission to explore your home a little while I wait? Most of what I've seen while you were sleeping was quite interesting."

Lisette hadn't really supposed he _needed_ her permission, much less that he was going to ask for it. Nonetheless, she nodded quickly. "Of course. I would tell you to be careful, but you know enough magic to handle most of the devices. Please, help yourself."

Something in the assassin's eyes changed, broke, even, and not even a god's will could hold him back any longer. In an instant, there was no escaping his omnipresent arms, his insistent kisses and the heat once more pulsing between them. Lachance had managed to only partially dress himself – which was perhaps part of what had made his lovely mage tense up – but it was exceedingly productive to his intention to feel as much of Blanche's skin as possible while he could. Given her weak moans in response, she was starting to see his point.

But all good things had to come to an end, especially if that end ensured the beginning of much better things later on.

"Thank you." Lachance released her in a single fluid motion, yet it appeared as if he disentangling himself from something with great reluctance and left the room without another word or glance.

As for Lisette, the knuckles clutching at her blanket deathly pale and her face still tinged with pink, she remained sitting for a few moments, listening only to the slowly steadying rhythm of her own breathing before she mustered the strength and courage to rise. Wrapping the blanket around herself tighter than any embrace she had ever experienced, she practically sprinted out of the room, as if such things could put distance between her and the consequences.

**o.O.o**

Surprisingly, Lisette took very little time to get ready to play a proper host. The first thing she had solved took little time; she had no desire to start throwing up in a few weeks' time and part of her panic was based on that possibility. Fortunately, one didn't become a proper alchemist anywhere without being able to concoct at least the basics of contraceptives, seeing that it was a highly lucrative business anywhere, as long as the aftereffects weren't extreme and the taste was better than raw fish.

She had never understood why it might be worth enduring before. But now… trying to keep the memories away only brought them back stronger. So she let them, and felt a little better about herself.

With that over with, cleaning herself was a simple if slightly peculiar matter. She didn't feel dirty, so to speak, but there was a need for warmth and peace and silence, which the bath provided. Afterwards, she simply found a fresh set of robes and, not bothering with her hair, allowing it to flow freely down her back, set out to confront Lachance.

Finding him was an equally easy task, considering that he obviously wished to be found as soon as she was ready. After all, being the instigator of this meeting, so to speak, it was in his interest that they have a proper conversation.

Considering how well the last attempt had gone...

"Might I offer you anything to eat?" Lisette was highly proud of the fact that her voice didn't shake as images more vivid than ever flashed in her mind's eye when she finally spotted her 'guest'. "I've had a little myself."

The Listener, now appearing quite at home among the atronachs guarding the exits and the various enchanting altars, shook his head, the picture of politeness as he was led to the closest thing that passed as a dining hall slash sitting room in the tower.

"It won't be necessary, but thank you. I would prefer that we resolve things now rather than keep you unnerved."

"I'm not unnerved by you, Lucien."

"Does it comfort you to lie to yourself?" Lachance drawled as he sat down, observing Blanche keenly. She was still pale, though it was passable now, but her expression was unmistakable. She apparently even realized it and refused to look up. "I'd be upset if you weren't a little unnerved, actually. I was half-expecting a proper scream of mortification worthy of a sheltered aristocratic maiden. You're better than that, though."

"Wasn't it payback enough for you?" There was such a forced calm in her voice that it was a wonder the objects around her didn't start breaking through magic, so tight her control over her own emotions remained. But she was close to the shattering point and the reply she was expecting would no doubt push her beyond it.

Lachance, however, was momentarily puzzled by this question, even more so by the feeling it contained.

"Payback?" She thought- _no_. That would be an utter stupidity way beneath her. "There are much more effective methods of revenge, should I feel so inclined. Unless you're mortified to the point that it has taken a toll on your reasoning ability, you'll realize that I wouldn't have attempted to soothe you after bedding you."

He wouldn't have kissed her without reason and certainly wouldn't still feel the same burning passion reigniting – what was it about arguing with her that triggered this desire to resolve things through entirely too physical means?

Judging by the way something in her relaxed, Blanche may as well have breathed an immense sigh of relief. But the Arch-Mage still looked perturbed once she absorbed this information.

"You'll have to speak plainly to me, then, because I don't really follow your reasoning." Or her own, for that matter, despite words like _never_ and _mine_ and _beloved_ echoing through her mind at times. She had learned to distrust words.

"Not consummating a relationship that has lasted for over a year seems more illogical to me." Lachance countered, succeeding at breaking the atmosphere of self-pity that was still generally present. The swift wide-eyed glance he received in return was most amusing. "Don't look so scandalized now; it's a most peculiar sight."

And one that did nothing for his reasoning ability.

"I've never thought of... of things turning out this way." It had never seemed logical, let alone possible. But now, it felt very… natural.

Again, Lachance's amusement almost surfaced. "Clearly. All the more reason to ensure that part of your thoughts are devoted to it. Because I warn you," And that's more than he'd done for anyone, because men such as him never fight fairly. "I fully intend to have and keep you."

Now, Lisette couldn't bemoan the lack of a clear sign of his intentions. Even she could understand the meaning behind resumed proximity, wandering hands and more mind-numbing kisses. But it was the words that stunned her into silence.

Which didn't last long, of course, especially after she managed to study Lucien's entirely unwavering certainty of this.

"You're serious." Dear Akatosh, what had she gotten herself into this time? Some insane part of her was thinking it might have been better if Lucien had actually intended to shrug this off as a one-time incident. Fortunately (fortunately?), the idea hurt as well. She almost tried to get away.

"And you're mine." Words such as that, accompanied by the swift motion of being pulled back and held against the person who spoke them seconds after she attempted to stand up and turn away at least for a moment would have frightened Lisette some months ago. Now, everything was twisted and different, even fear. "As long as we understand one another."

"This is insane." she retorted, "The Brotherhood-"

"This doesn't concern the Brotherhood, which you had so loudly renounced, if you recall." Smoothly, when it was clear she wasn't about to bolt, Lachance turned her to face him. The defiance was back in her face. That was a good sign, as were her swollen lips. "Or the mages, or even, Sithis forgive me, the Night Mother. This concerns only you and me."

"The Night Mother... she'll remember her promise." Lisette pointed out quietly, bringing out the trump card that refused to allow her to justify this. "Your first loyalty is to her."

"And I make no pretentions otherwise." Compromises could be reached, though, if the reward was right. And in this case, the price was more than acceptable. "But you should already know that the Listener - or a Speaker, for that matter - cannot be simply demoted. So long as I live and serve Sithis, there is no danger of the post being vacated."

Lisette blinked, considering this. No doubt the Night Mother was in no rush to dispose of loyal underlings merely to break the will of one possible recruit... and if she was, if she sent Lucien on a suicide mission or something of the like, Lisette was quite certain that she wouldn't rest until she found a means of destroying even an ancient spirit of murder.

"I need to protect you, then." The nod was meant more for herself than for him. "That's acceptable."

"Yes, you seem to be doing that quite a lot. It was actually quite refreshing to be the one saved, at least once in a while." Lachance actually allowed himself a slight chuckle, now that the resistance was fading away. So adamant, his protector. What an odd idea, though certainly not a reason to patronize. Despite her current state, he knew Blanche was more than capable of defending them both, if need be. "Do you still believe this to be insanity when it's in your own interest?"

After what seemed an eternity of avoiding his eyes - lest she agree without question or do something utterly foolhardy, such as begin to question the pounding of her heart or why he had called her beloved when there had been no need for irony - Lisette finally chose to do so.

"Why do you want this?" _Why would you want me, who now defies you at every turn?_ "I don't really understand why you'd choose me."

Truth to be told, Lachance didn't fully understand it either, even if there was some reason behind this, which he doubted. He was also of the opinion that trying to study or understand the particulars was an utter waste of time and effort that could be much better spent when in her company. If he had the intention of coming up with a short answer, it would likely be that there were many answers, each equally true, each a sign of worth an affection (how odd that would be, coming from him), though only now cemented by desire.

He supposed the simple would call it love. But that was a word, entirely too limiting and definite and empty. In Blanche, the mundane found meaning and substance and worth. The actual answer is that he didn't have a reason for choosing her; he simply had done so.

"I have no ulterior motive... for once." he added with a small smirk when Blanche's expression remained hardened, "What happens now is entirely up to you. I wouldn't presume to make claims upon you if you aren't willing." Of course, he didn't say that there were measures to be employed to make her willing, with time and patience.

Her answer, partly stunning and partly expected - it's difficult to tell, despite the memory of the previous night - rendered all that redundant.

"I... I am. That's what's most frightening about this." Not confusing, no, since, when it came down to it, Lucien was the only person in the world who knew all her secrets - all the important ones, anyway. She didn't want to lose the chance of being with someone for whom she didn't have to wear any mask, be it Arch-Mage or hero.

A slow smile spread across Lachance's face, something those that had observed it usually associated with a highly successful kill. "Now, was that so difficult?"

He had absolutely no idea. But the kissing certainly helped make it a little easier.

"But I can't leave the Imperial City often nowadays." Lisette dodged the question instead. The idea was sinking in at last, which meant that her practical side was given the opportunity to resurface. Meeting a lover in the privacy of her sanctum was one thing, but the Arcane University was filled with people who liked nothing more than gossip and speculate. And, being Arch-Mage, it was unlikely that any affair of hers would remain unwatched. "And you are Listener; you need to remain in Bravil, right?"

"At times, yes." Lachance admitted, somewhat proud of this progress, but now watching with glee. "Still, we have the great fortune of having a secret weapon against such... commuting."

"What?"

The response was laughter and words that would have been patronizing, if not meant in a teasing fashion. "Why, Arch-Mage, I would have thought that you knew your own craft better than that."

"Oh." Magic. Teleportation. Lisette wanted to smack herself. She had all but forgotten. The way things were going, she was afraid these temporary power shortages to her brain might become regular. "That would be manageable, I suppose. It would take me a little while to build and stabilize the portals, but I could get them up and running in a few days. I'd need to be physically present at the sites, though."

"Would you work quicker with help?" the Listener asked, watching her ramble on without malice. The predatory gleam in his eyes remained in place, but how wonderful that the prey didn't seem to fear it any longer.

"Of course."

"Most excellent. Go get some spare clothing and we can leave for Bravil whenever you are ready."

Lisette's initial answer was a wide-eyed stare. "Are you joking? I need to return to the University. Raminus will be furious with me as it is."

Lachance neither knew nor cared who this Raminus was; he had no intention of relinquishing his hard-earned prize just yet, especially not to wizened old men who would watch her every move and need guidance every step of the way like toddlers. It would be difficult to juggle both of their schedules and duties later on; for now, both of them deserved a reprieve from these tasks.

"We can stop there for a while and lay the foundation of the first portal back to the Spire. Besides, I seem to recall you having a rather crafty story circulating regarding my visits. What was it, then?" he feinted forgetfulness - as if he could ever, with the amusing images of Blanche embarrassed over having an alleged fiancé. "Oh, I remember. The urban legend love-life of Lisette Lemieux. What is it?" Her face had gone strangely peaceful yet inquisitive.

Astonishingly, Blanche smiled, shaking her pale head once more. "Nothing. You said my birth name." she clarified when it became obvious Lachance wasn't about to be satisfied with such a cheap answer. "You never use my birth name."

"You are what you choose to be, not what you are born as." Truer words were never spoken, which applied to them both. "Does being addressed as Blanche displease you?"

It would cause some complication to have to get used to the other name, which he had used only once before. Also, the fact that the Brotherhood didn't know of the link between their famous Cousin and Arch-Mage Lisette Lemieux was a most useful thing, especially if information would get intercepted. It was unlikely, but still a possibility. However, the smile didn't waver.

"Not any longer." she said simply, and somehow, this allowed her to relax into the embrace of Death.

That moment was when victory became claimed and both sides surrendered to it.

"Go get your things and let us be off, lest we won't leave at all." Lachance voice had lowered to an almost feral growl, which was something Lisette had the good sense to still be wary of.

"You can leave right away; I can teleport myself through the balcony..."

But Lachance, while most reluctantly willing to give up another day to properly corrupt the still-innocent, drew the line at being deprived of her entirely. At least he was able to reason things properly.

"Your presence in Bravil will be questioned if you appear as Arch-Mage. My kind travel through shadow and night. As it is day, I'll have to contend myself with pretending to be no more than a merchant traveling back home. Your presence would also add to the credibility of that story."

"Very well." Lisette relented, but remained unable to walk away due to the arms still trapping her in place. "You have to let me go, first."

"Must I?" the Listener mused, making no move to do anything of the sort. "Does Death relinquish its hold on every subject it calls to it? But perhaps it could be persuaded to momentarily reconsider..." he added, seeing the tired but amused look on the young woman's face. "What would you ransom for your freedom?"

"What do you want for it?" She played along, without any choice in the matter. She already knew, though, with the jest of her kiss of death having now progressed to something else entirely.

It wasn't desperation and panic, or the flame that had very nearly devoured everything the day before... the kiss was an inviting embrace, a caressing wind, yet containing promises of something deeper than mere desire yet darker than pure devotion. It was returned with every particle of the recipient's own passion.

"The payment is sufficient... for now." Lachance said afterwards, as if each word had cost him something very precious, but the sacrifice would be worth it in the end. "Go."

She would never leave again.

Lisette didn't question or hesitate; she went at once, gathering what she might need for the brief journey, blood drumming in her ears every step of the way. She was swift and returned - she would always return - to be reunited with Shadowmere, who had apparently given all this her approval, going so far as to tolerate the presence of another horse (though Lachance would have preferred having them both on the same mount, for speed and secrecy's sake.)

Together, they rode off into the winter wilderness, the Spire sealed away by its atronach guardians once they had gone.

In Tamriel, there are many truths one could claim apply to everyone and anything, one of these being that opposites, while perhaps attracting, didn't mix. Dark and light, black and white or good and evil, whichever example one wants to give, it remains obvious that the two remain separate. Yet perhaps these very truths are foolishness in a world full of paradoxes, where light can kill and darkness can save.

This very world, called reality, remains complained about by those who believe it to be dull and lifeless and too ambiguous in its shades of gray. Only a precious few understand that a world where even Death can come to love the Maiden he had been sent to claim in a wholly different way is nothing less than a vibrant kaleidoscope of color.


End file.
